


Tesac Rock

by Saynto



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Discipline, Domestic Discipline, Dubious Consent, Jealousy, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Possible Abuse, Science Fiction, Slash, Slavery, dubcon, space travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 10:28:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 36,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2769698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saynto/pseuds/Saynto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Garth had considered himself a redeemed man. Exiled to backwater planet Monarus as a teen, he had worked his way up to freeman status, even purchasing his own land. But life on the mining colony is isolating. When he hears that a shipment of prisoner-brides is landing portside, he doesn't hesitate to fight for a claim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

_Loneliness is a strange sort of thing_

**oOo**

Only criminals mined tesac rock.

Their records may have been cleared, they may have been allowed to own land again, but the only reason they were on Monarus Three, a backwater planet several months journey from Orahn, was because they had broken  _some_ law worthy of exile.

Monarus was a gloomy planet. This included its habitable regions, which were all constantly deluged with rain, leading to dangerous mudslides down the mountainous, forested terrain. Fortunately, the tesac rock deposits were revealed with each occurrence, so the miners rarely complained. They knew where the land was steady, where it would crumble under their feet. If they wanted to survive, they adapted to Monarus.

Garth, for one, had. Fifteen years since arriving on the mining planet's as a surly teenage delinquent, and he already owned a small chunk of land on the south side of the westerly mountain range. Only took him about three days to get to the Shegalice by hoverport. There were card halls and prostitutes there, both of which Garth partook of when he could afford it… which wasn't often.

On that particular day, he was out of extra funds, and had decided to stay home. His house was modest, but then again, he had built it himself. There was only one room, but it contained the essentials: stove, table, bed. A few yards from the back was an outhouse.

He was standing at the stove, watching the kettle and waiting for it to boil. There was no mining to be done, the rains were too heavy. They pounded on his roof.

He looked up, wondering if there would be a leak.

thudthudthudthud thud thudthud thud thudthud

Glancing back at the kettle, Garth sniffed. It was a little chilly in the house, but not so much so that he would turn the heat on.

When the kettle boiled, Garth's movements felt mechanical or lodged in syrup. He was deep in his own head as he poured the water into a mug with some tea.

Amidst this fog, a piercing shriek woke him. His comm on the wall. It was blinking.

Still slightly dazed, he answered it.

The face of Dell Edder appeared on the screen. He was younger than Garth, and had only just fulfilled his release terms. He was grinning. "Garth! Glad I caught you, you're gonna want to hear this."

"Oh yeah?"

"There's a new prisoner shipment coming in... "

Garth frowned slightly, already tuning out. Another shipment of men to be dropped off on Monarus. That's not what they needed here, not more hungry, angry men.

"Garth!"

He blinked, and realized he really had stopped listening. "Sorry, Dell. Just tired."

"Yeah well, this will wake you up. This shipment… they have a new designation for some of the prisoners."

Garth rubbed at his face, trying to follow. The only designation he had ever heard of was "worker" with either "class A" or "class B", which determined how long you were indentured for. "Well?" he said.

Grinning, Dell looked mighty pleased with himself. He leaned closer to his camera. " _Bride,_ Garth. They've finally decided to let us freemen take on a prisoner for ourselves."

Everything seemed to freeze for a moment. Garth's insides made a little twist. "How—how did you find out? How… does this work?" he managed to croak out.

"I don't know the details. Apparently this is a test run, or the only run. I think it's meant to settle us down a little bit, but they probably won't keep doing it. Least, that's the feeling I got. Only a third of the transport are designated as brides, and I think the disbursement is first come-first served."

Garth pinched between his eyebrows, trying to plan. His heart was thundering. "Do we have to pay something for one?"

"Probably."

Something hit him. "Is there a timeframe on this—" A hint of panic creeped into his voice. "Would we have to let them go at some point?"

But Dell was shaking his head and grinning again. "That's the beauty of it, Garth,  _we_ choose when they're released, or if they're released at all." He chuckled. "Like hell that's gonna happen."

Garth knew exactly what he meant. "I have to go," he breathed.

"Yeah, yeah. See you at the auction."

The video screen blacked out, and immediately Garth stumbled over his untied boots as he rushed to pack. He'd be pushing his hoverport to the limit to make sure he got to Shagalice before that transport ship.

He swung the front door open, ready to barrell outside when he paused and looked down at his worn miner clothes, covered in mud. No. This wouldn't be right. He turned back and went to his rarely touched trunk. Inside: his father's suit.

**oOo**

There was, at least, a well-kept road from his region of Monarus, and Shagalice. Of course, it was there for transporting tesac rock, but he used it all the same.

For two days of almost non-stop driving, he thought and thought, a grim look on his face.

The thing was, there was no chance for romancing on Monarus. Only men were sent there, and any freeman willing to give up the chance of owning his own minelands in favor of shacking up with another freeman on  _his_ lands was openly mocked.

The sick thing about that, Garth thought, was how insanely jealous those assholes actually were. If any one of them could convince a sweetheart to relinquish the dream of independence and money after becoming a freeman, they wouldn't hesitate.

But this prisoner transport. It was finally happening. The freemen of Monarus were becoming restless and agitated. There were murmurs of blocking tesac shipments until they got some sort of…

Garth didn't know how to put it, not even to himself. No one talked about the isolation of living in the mountains. They just talked about tesac and the old world. During get-togethers of men close enough to travel for it, they would  _act_  merry while secretly eying the freemen in relationships with envious, wary gazes.

He tried to imagine all those men rushing towards Shagalice. He wondered how many people the overeager and not so discreet Dell had called.

Fortunately, the local heavyweights in the city liked Garth. Especially Ham Venn, who he was going to see directly. Hamm was the man in charge of prisoner disbursement. Garth powered his hoverport all the way through Shagalice until he got to main street. The city was a boom town—pretty large, but everything hastily put together from old ship parts and badly crafted natural materials. Still, it was improving and growing at a rapid pace.

"Garth!"

Just walking down the steps of city hall's meager front, Venn waved. Garth nodded in return, climbing down to the dirt road from his hoverport and pulling his hat off as he approached. "Afternoon, Venn."

Behind him, the main road of Shagalice was rowdy with tradesmen, orphans. Venn fit in naturally with this boisterous atmosphere. He came up to Garth with a laugh, dropping his arm around Garth's shoulders amiably. He whistled. "My, my, what's with this get up?"

Garth felt self-conscious in the suit. It must have been completely out of fashion, with it's three pieces: trim vest, jacket, and trousers.

Before he could get a word in edgewise, Venn leaned in closer. "I suppose you heard."

Garth could only nod mutely.

Venn had a certain way of looking at Garth, like he knew exactly what Garth would have said if he wasn't such a mute idiot. There was a small smile on the man's ruddy face, his squinty blue eyes flashing. "Well you're right on time. Would you like to come down the the port with me and see them unload?"

As interesting as that seemed, Garth needed to find his voice. "Venn," he said. "Just tell me where I need to go to make sure I get one."

Venn smiled at him, patted his back. And then he turned to a man beside him. "Put him on the waiting list."

The man clicked a few things on his telepad. "Got it."

"Alright," Venn said happily, nodding towards the road. "Let's go get an eyeful of these brides shall we?"

Garth nodded a lot, muttering his thanks through a thick tongue. He was on the list. He was on the list. He wondered if that was a guarantee. He walked beside Venn down main street to Shagalice's government port as the other man chatted about inconsequential things. Garth listened with half and ear while also trying to conjure up an image of what the man who would be surrendered to his custody would look like.

He wondered how someone became designated as a bride. The crime would have to have been something the statesmen felt meant that the criminal did not deserve a chance at being a freeman.

Something the man with Venn said caught his attention. He was reading off names: "Toth, Horton, Cerrick—"

"That's thirteen so far," Venn replied thoughtfully.

Were those the men? Garth futilely tried to recall the names.

"Indeed. Shall I began disbursing the worker commissions?"

"Yes, but leave the brides be for the moment."

As they approached the city's port, Garth saw the crowd of miners and freemen milling around. When they saw Venn, the crowd seemed to shift with a new tense feeling. They all started shouting different questions at once, but Venn held up his hands. "Gentlemen! We have living souls in that ship who haven't stepped on ground for months. Please let me disburse our new neighbors and friends so that they may get a breath of fresh air."

That seemed to calm the men down a little, until someone shouted: "And what about the brides? Is it true?"

"Yes," Venn said levelly.

There was a collective exhale of wonderment from the crowd. Venn turned to Garth and muttered, "You're on the list, I promise. So would you mind going to the ship and helping with unloading the new workers?"

Garth was hesitant, but he nodded. He knew better than to snub Venn.

"Great—" Venn said to him, and then to the port guards, "Let him in!"

Someone grabbed his shoulder, and he saw the other man with Venn holding up his telepad. "Make sure everyone on the manifest is there."

Garth nodded again, and took the pad. The port gate opened and he strode through as confidently as he could with all the miners glaring at his back. On the other side sat a typical government transport vessel. It said  _T.A.S. Sherry_ on the side of it's worn hull. The unloading ramps were already down.

Garth met one of the guards at the bottom of the ramp. "Worker disbursement?"

The guard nodded. "Just keep an eye on them as they go down. We're gonna line them up for now and separate out these bride boys everyone's talking about."

While he waited for the prisoners to come down, Garth took a look at the telepad. He realized it was a fully-connected government hook up, complete with access permissions. He could have found his own name and added statesman to the title, although someone would be bound to notice that kind of switch.

His musings were interrupted by a grinding clank. The doors to the transport vessel were opening out onto the ramp. Garth had flashbacks to his own unloading, the first time he saw rainy Monarus, the first time he breathed that wet air. He wondered what these men were feeling, especially the ones designated as 'bride'. Well, soon enough, he would be able to ask one them himself.

Checking through several inventories, he found the waiting list for the brides. He was just below Dell, of all people.

The guards started ushering the two lines of chained men down the ramp. They each had a pair of cuffs which hooked forward to a chain around the next man's waist. They were wearing tan jumpsuits, just like the one Garth had worn fifteen years earlier.

They came slowly down the ramps. Each man was wide-eyed with their heads swivelling around to get a view of everything. A lot of them seemed to notice the crowd building up outside of the port.

"Over here!" Garth shouted. "Keep it steady!"

The rows started to pass him, and he watched each man from the corner of his eye as he pretended to take note of the telepad. Most of them seemed young and, while not exactly clean-cut, not worn out like the miners.

When the lines came to a stop, Garth glanced over at Venn, but the man was still trying to calm the crowds. The guards in the lines were walking down the rows and calling out names. Garth waited to hear one of the bride names he recognized.

There was a low cough. "Hey."

Carefully, he glanced up from the telepad. One of the prisoners was trying to catch his attention. He quirked an eyebrow.

The man smiled. "I'm Oliver." His eyes moved down expectantly to the telepad.

"The guard will get to you," Garth replied.

"Oh. Ok." The words were said with a breezy carelessness. "Say, you a freeman?"

Garth shifted on his feet. "That's right."

"Did that take a long time?"

"Seemed like it."

"Hmm…"

After a second, Garth looked at the man again. He was swamped by his jumpsuit, and his brown hair was too long. There were dark circles under his eyes, but that was understandable with the months of travel. All in all, he didn't look more than a few years younger than Garth, if that.

When he caught Garth looking, he lit up again. "Oliver Turry. I'm a class b worker."

Garth frowned at that, and then quickly looked down at the telepad.

He wasn't fond of class b workers: they had been freemen on Ohran, but had  _chosen_ indentured work for a set period of time on Monarus in payment for free travel. They sometimes had technical skills that the mining companies needed desperately, and they filled the gaps when there wasn't enough workforce from the criminal side.

Despite Garth's cold shoulder, Oliver kept talking anyway. "You know—well I guess you of all people  _would_ know, but this doesn't seem like a bad deal for anyone. Ohran is overcrowded, this planet is lush. I heard it's not that hard to build up capital here to buy your own land."

"Yeah, something like that." Garth was distracted when he noticed the guards pulling certain men out from the lines and putting them into their own group. Venn was there, overseeing the whole thing.

"Do you?"

Garth blinked, and looked at Oliver, who was watching him with naked curiosity. "Do I what?"

"Own any land?"

Garth nodded and this seemed to excite Oliver even more. "Amazing," he breathed. "You're so young."

Face heating, Garth cleared his throat. Before he could say anything in response, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Venn was behind him, and… he looked resigned.

"Listen, Garth," he said calmly.

Garth's stomach dropped.

Venn nodded at what was probably Garth's pale face."We just went through the waiting list. Dell got the last one."

Dell. Dell had been right above Garth on the waiting list. That was… that meant that Garth drove out to Shagalice for nothing, had imagined bringing back a bride for nothing, had put on this suit for nothing—nothing nothing nothing, he would return home to nothing and  _no one_.

"All right," he said mutely. "I appreciate you putting me on the list, anyway."

Venn clasped his shoulder in a tight grip and then walked back over to where several miners were gathered. They all looked like nervous children, clutching their hats in their hands and listening carefully to Venn. Garth hated them suddenly. A rage had been lit in his core. He clutched the telepad, knuckles going white.

"What was that about?" Garth heard Oliver say. He was also watching Venn, leaning out of the line to do so.

Garth stared at him. And then he came to decision.

Pulling up a new list, Garth tapped in a few things and then cleared the whole telepad. He strode over to Venn and thrust the thing out towards him. "You missed one."

Venn, looking taken aback, turned to the man who was with him. The man then grabbed the telepad from Garth while muttering, "Impossible." But then his furious scrolling stopped, and his eyes widened. He shoved the pad under Venn's nose.

Venn's eyes moved at rapid fire. Then, after a moment, his lip quirked up. "My, my." He snapped his fingers at a guard. "Go and fetch Prisoner 808, Oliver Turry".

Watching as the guard strode over to the lines, Garth slipped his shaking hands into his pockets. There was a conversation, Oliver looking confused as the guard unlocked his cuffs, and then even more hesitant as the guard led him over to the group of miners.

"Put him with the other brides," Venn said casually.

"Wait—" Oliver had come to a dead stop. "What?"

"My apologies for the mix-up," Venn said.

"No, there's no. I mean, mix-up? I'm a class b worker."

"The jig is up, Oliver. We caught our error, so please go quietly." Venn was smiling his politician's smile.

Meanwhile, a slow panic was seeping into Oliver's brown eyes. "I'm serious.  _This_ is the mistake. I registered with the justice clerk on Ohran, I—I signed a five-year contract as a class b worker."

Garth almost scoffed at that. Only five years?

"And this manifest is from the justice clerk," Venn's assistant replied. "It clearly has you listed at a bride."

Oliver was shaking his head. "No. No. That's wrong. Something glitched…"

"I'm sure," Venn sniffed. He made a subtle movement and two guards appeared on either side of Oliver. "Please put him with the brides."

Garth had to drop his gaze when Oliver started screaming in a blind panic. He winced when he heard someone call for a sedative, and then closed his eyes when the screams died off. He felt a presence next to him, and then Venn grasped his shoulder again.

"Well," the man said lightly. "How's that for luck?"

**oOo**


	2. Two

_Isolation is the sum total of wretchedness to a man._

**oOo**

The lucky ones all stood quietly beneath the overhang as rain poured down in streams less than a foot away from their noses, turning the roads to pure mud. Behind them, Venn was finalizing arrangements inside the disbursement department office, which was a squat little government building settled next to the ship port.

The brides were in there too.

Garth hiked up his jacket collar, a whisp of his breath rising when he exhaled.

"Mine's named Cory," Dell said from beside him. His voice carried a hint of wonderment as he held his palm out under the water for a moment. "He's actually a year older than me. He got busted for something to do with drugs."

"He addicted?"

"No. No, they said he was clean. They did a whole blood workup." Dell stuffed his hands under his armpits and shivered. "Shit, Garth. What am I gonna say to him? A few days from now, and he and I will be the only two souls for miles and miles."

Across the road, several miners were loitering. Probably upset that they had missed out and wanted to at least see the brides. They were holding their coats over their heads and talking to each other, but Garth couldn't really make out the body language through the rain. They had better be off to their land in the mountains before it got too late.

"Well," he said finally. "What did you want him for?"

"What do I wanthim  _for_?" Dell let out a little scoff. But then he grew quiet. It took him a moment to answer with: "Just, um. I'm not sure yet. He'll hafta be, well."

Garth made sure Dell saw the disapproval on his face. "You ain't bringing home some fuckdoll, Dell."

"I know that, you asshole. I wasn't even gonna make him do  _that_  stuff. Damn, Garth, did you think I would?"

Garth kept watching him, and Dell shifted on his feet, averting his gaze. "That's what they're for, though, partially. And they know it, too. I just meant that he'll have to, you know, be a little bit lovey with me, that we're gonna be touchy-feely, or… something like that."

Letting him stew a little bit, Garth went back to observing the miners across the street. Dell was naive and certainly a gentle boy if he could barely spit out that he wanted some light petting with his new bride. But only a fool would believe that the other men standing around them would bring a second mouth to feed into the house—deadweight that didn't earn money—and not want some sort of something to make that expense worth it.

"Why are you being a dick about this? You wanted one just as bad."

 _More than just_. Garth's fingertips still itched from the memory of changing the manifest records. "I know," he said quietly.

"Dell," he continued, "you're gonna have to be more firm than this, if you want to keep that boy in line. He'll run off thinking he can survive in the woods if you don't. And you don't want to find Cory's body a few months on, half eaten by wolves."

Using the bride's name seemed to have the impact Garth was aiming for. Dell's lips had thinned into a pale line. "Right," he said with conviction.

The forests weren't a joke. Many new prisoners, just arrived on Monarus, got the idea of escape into their heads like they could survive in some shack without even the most basic supplies.

Either they were gone forever, bodies found later. Or they came back with their tails between their legs, ribs showing under their malnourished skin. Luckily, the powers-that-be never reacted harshly to the runaways. They just gave them a full meal, a warm bed, and then put them back to work once they had regained their health. There was no need to punish a man who had already been starved and learned his lesson through experience.

Garth had been one of those runaways.

But he wasn't going to think about that now.

"Even if you gotta be harsh," he said suddenly, his voice rough. "These will be city boys, Ohran boys, remember what that was like, Dell? And they're gonna be even more pissed off than we were cuz they ain't got a set end to their term."

"You don't know that," another man said from behind them. It was Jamal Tennison, a whip-lean man with shrewd eyes. He was small, but every ounce on him was pure, sinuous muscle. He owned the land adjacent to Garth's, but they weren't exactly close friends. Jamal liked to stick to himself. In fact, Garth was surprised to see him there, waiting for a bride to share his home with.

He was in a somber mood, it seemed. "How would the justice clerk expect us to handle a man who hadn't chosen this designation? These guys probably decided 'life in the mines wasn't gonna do it, so why not be coddled lovers?'"

Those last two words sent a ripple of murmurs down the group of men.  _Coddled lovers._ Whatever Jamal had meant to say with that, the effect was antsy excitement.

These men had spent years accumulating some land, some living wage, some  _life_ that they never would have been able to achieve anywhere in Ohran, and now they were going to have someone to—for lack of a better term—spend it on. Someone who wouldn't be able to gain their own independance, someone who would be completely reliant on them.

Garth had no intention of debating Jamal. He didn't care enough. One way or the other, they would all find out how amenable these brides were.

Jamal didn't seem too keen on pushing things forward either. His gaze had shifted to the miners across the way. "We're gonna have trouble with them."

Nodding, Garth crossed his arms. Since he had last scoped them out, the miners had formed a tighter circle. "They can't do anything. The brides are registered under our names."

Jamal grunted. "Legalities won't stop a man. But facing my shotgun might make him rethink a thing or two."

Looking at him in surprise, Garth let a small smile grace his lips. "Didn't realize how badly you wanted this, Jamal."

The expression Jamal shot him was one of friendly mockery. He even chuckled. "After Timmy, I'm not taking any chances."

Right. Garth had forgotten about the cardshark who had promised to live with Jamal in his cabin and then took off on a transport ship using a ticket bought with all of his savings.

"Hey," Dell cut in with a smile. "After everyone's settled in a little bit, we should throw some kinda to-do, like a barn dance or something."

"That's a good idea," Garth replied gently. Trust Dell to try and diffuse the tension. But Jamal had a point, once everyone returned to their remote homes in the mountains, no city law would be able to stop someone from trying to steal one of these brides. If that happened, a return trip to Shagalice and request for military support would be essential.

Behind him, he heard the sound of shoes tapping on tiled floor and turned just in time to see Venn lean out from behind one of the double doors that had been propped open. "Boys," he said with a grin. "Ready to meet your brides?"

**oOo**

The hallway was narrow and badly lit. The men trudged through it apprehensively.

Venn stopped and gestured towards and open room. "In here, please."

Everyone began filing through, but when Garth was about to pass him, Venn reached out and grabbed his arm. "Come with me," he said pleasantly. With a tug, he had them across the hallway and into another empty room which looked like someone's dreary office. Garth was shoved in forward, and he heard Venn close the door.

"Sit down."

There were a pair of generic wooden chairs in front of the desk. Garth took one of them.

Venn stood over him. He didn't look angry, but his usually roguish expression was missing. But then, his lip quirked up. "Didn't think you had that in you."

Garth gripped his knees. "Well what are you gonna do about it?"

"Hm." Venn started pacing in front of him. "Well, let's be honest. No one will care about Oliver Turry. No one on Ohran, not the justice clerk, and certainly no one here." He stopped and looked Garth right in the eyes. "In fact, they'll probably erase his record just as easily as you did."

"It wasn't easy," Garth ground out.

"You wanna change your mind?"

Garth blinked. "What?"

"I mean, it's not too late. We can change the record back and we can ship him off to the government mines with none the wiser. Or he can be formally assigned to you and lose any right to own property or make money. So, I'm asking you now Garth, are you committing to what you've done?"

Standing up, Garth went face to face with Venn. "You won't stop me?"

Venn shook his head. "Like I said, no one here will care. I don't care. More men slip through the cracks than we can handle. One more going to a safe home won't have me losing any sleep."

"Then of course I commit to it," Garth replied. "I wouldn't have done that in the first place if I thought I might regret it."

Venn's smile widened a little bit. "Like I said, didn't know you had it in you." With that, he nodded for the door. "Go join those other lucky bastards. We'll bring the brides in soon."

In the hallway, Garth had to take a moment to settle his heart. He hadn't realized what a confrontation like that would feel like, but he was almost glad it happened. He  _had_ been doubting himself, but when Venn offered a way out, everything was cemented. He did not regret putting Oliver under the bride list.

When he was a calm again, he walked into the room. The men were all sitting around a large table, tapping their fingers and looking around and shifting in their chairs. "For fuck's sake," Dell said when Garth entered, "my heart near exploded out of my chest, I thought you were them coming in."

"Venn said they're on their way," Garth replied sedately.

Dell looked like a spastic mess. He kept running his hand through his hair. "This is the longest wait of my god damn life."

Then they all heard it at the same time: footsteps.

Everyone sat up straight while Garth quickly found a seat in between Dell and Jamal. Unconsciously, he smoothed a line down the length of his tie. Twenty-one men were about to receive custody of their brides.

The first one through the door was of average build. He had dark brown skin and dreadlocks. Garth heard Jamal exhale and then mutter, "please God, let him be mine."

The next few were white men, looked like they were in their twenties. Garth didn't see Oliver among them. Of course, that sedative had been used only about two hours beforehand, so maybe he was resting somewhere…

"That's gotta be Cory," Dell said excitedly. A slender man of asian descent had lined up. He was bordering on feminine.

"Why do you say that?"

Dell rubbed at his nose. There was a red tint to his cheeks. "No offense or anything but you guys all seem like you'll take any ol' rough dude. I've been  _praying_ for someone cute… someone like him."

"So," Jamal said with from the other side of Garth, "you've just decided that one is Cory?" There was some wry amusement in his voice.

"He's the prettiest."

Shaking his head, Garth shot Jamal a shared look. But then something caught his eye and the fun was over.

Oliver had come through the door. His arms were chained behind his back. His feet were shackled. His eyes were red rimmed and downcast.

"Shit, man," Dell whispered, "that's the one who almost got out of being a bride."

Garth was too busy trying to figure out of there were injuries to listen to Dell. He couldn't see the guards or Venn allowing violence, but if Oliver had struggled… Well, he seemed okay. Physically, anyway.

"Here we are, here we are!" Venn had strutted into the room, arm waving out like he was displaying some fine goods. In his other hand, he held a telepad. The silence in the room was deafening. He looked around with that fake look of  _why isn't anyone talking?_ even though he knew damn well why.

Finally he let out a beleaguered sigh. "Ok. Here's the deal. I call out your name, and I point out which bride you've been assigned to. The happy couple goes down the hallway to the counselor's office where you will be told what to do next.  _Wait_ in the waiting room. Do not run off. Do not panic and think your bride will run off. Their circumstances have been very clearly explained to them."

He began calling out names. When Dell was assigned the slender man—Cory—he looked like he was gonna cry with happiness. He actually loped up to the front of the room like a moron and kissed the back of Cory's hand.

Cory was expressionless.

Dell's smile faltered only a little. He ushered Cory out of the room.

Like that, more names were called. Garth wasn't feeling apprehensive over the selection; he knew Oliver was his. But the seconds were ticking down until he would actually have to talk to the other man.

Jamal gripped Garth's shoulder. "I swear man, there's only four left. If I don't get that—"

"Did you pray like Dell?"

That got a stressed laugh out of Jamal. "He's so goddamn beautiful."

The man Jamal was talking about … his eyes were kinda shooting daggers at them like he knew they were discussing him. Garth held back from saying Jamal would probably have his work cut out for him.

"Garth?"

Venn was staring at him.

He had spaced out and missed being called. He shot up, his chair screeching back and stumbled to the front of the room right up to Oliver instead of Venn. Eyes going wide, Oliver stepped back, his hands rising defensively.

"Oh—" Garth said, "No, I mean, um."

Now that he knew Oliver was his... in that one second he catalogued and filed away every tidbit he saw, how Oliver's hair fell over his eyes in strands, and how his elbows were kind of boney, and how his eyes were wide and brown. He wasn't feminine like Cory, but he wasn't built quite like Garth either.

"Garth."

Venn was staring at him. "Go on, down the hallway."

Garth dithered self-consciously for a moment. Then, he reached forward. Oliver flinched. But there was no time for that, so Garth took his wrist as gently as he could, and pulled him along.

When they were in the hallway, Oliver spoke: "Hey. You're uh—that guy. Remember me?"

"Yes." Garth kept his gaze trained on the end of the hallway.

"Look, this is wrong. Like really wrong. I have a signed contract on file. I am  _not_ a bride."

His skin was warm under Garth's hand. Garth could feel his pulse.

"There's no contract," Garth said.

He started to feel a little resistance, Oliver pulling back. "Listen, man." The composure in his voice was cracking. "Please help me."

Garth slowed down a little, and then stopped to turn and look at Oliver. "Help you with what?"

A hopeful glint flashed in Oliver's eyes. "I need access to a comm!"

"I know what you're thinking. No comm here can reach Ohran."

"Then… telemail. Something that I can contact the justice clerk with."

He looked so god damn optimistic. He was clutching Garth's hands with his hands… choosing to touch Garth. It was easy to picture this man in his cabin, in his bed, and in his life. Oliver was so much more full of life than Garth ever felt.

Garth smiled a half smile. "I might be able to do that."

"Really?" Oliver breathed. He had taken a step closer to Garth, which was when Garth saw the tear stain tracks down the man's cheeks. "I felt like I was going crazy. No one would let me near a comm or anything. They just kept saying I was a liar over and over. God, I could kiss you right now."

Swallowing, Garth averted his gaze. "It might take awhile for me to arrange something. I'm just a freeman myself, and not even one who started as a B class worker. I was a criminal."

"That's fine," Oliver replied, never releasing his grip on Garth's hand. "It's almost good enough knowing someone is … hearing me."

"Come on," Garth said brusquely, choosing to ignore Oliver's words. "They'll get suspicious if we take too long."

Nodding, Oliver fell in line trotting behind Garth. "Well aside from all this drama," he laughed, "Monarus is beautiful. I love the wetness in the air, I feel like I can breathe for the first time. Although I suppose the mines aren't so lovely. I wonder when I'll actually be assigned to one? I was hoping to finish up the contract before I turned 35."

"It's not all it's cracked up to be."

"Why's that?"

"You're in the middle of the fucking woods. My closest neighbor is fifteen hours away by hoverport, and that's if the weather's good and the road is clear."

Oliver let out a whistle. "Still better than two to a cot in the men's district."

That made Garth think. He hadn't been on Ohran for fifteen years, and was exiled before he came of age. He never saw the districts where they shoved all the young, poor single men. He supposed it was probably cramped just like everything else on Ohran. But that was a life he would never experience. His life was on Monarus.

They had come to the waiting room at the end of the hallway. "Listen," Garth said quietly. "Just go along with this for now and don't make anymore waves."

"Alright," Oliver replied. "I promise."

Garth kept waiting for a well of guilt, but it never came. Oliver was only this idealistic because he didn't know the reality. Eventually he would have become one of the men desperate enough for affection that they fight each other like wolves for a forced partnership with a glorified slave.

Hopefully, once he had seen what Monarus was really like, Oliver would come to appreciate what Garth had done.

**oOo**


	3. Chapter 3

_Nothing makes us so lonely as our secrets_

**oOo**

Other men were leaving.

Garth decided not to panic unless something actually happened. But he and Oliver had been sitting in front of the disbursement officer for thirty minutes, and the pairs of men around them had been dwindling all the while. Jamal (with the man he wanted, no less) had already come and gone.

For awhile Garth had watched him from across the room to keep his mind off the confused looking officer. Jamal was a closed book at that point—in fact, both men had stiff expressions.  _Wonder if they fought in the hallway?_

The officer sighed. "Well, I've managed to parse what happened here—"

"That I'm not a bride?" Oliver replied wryly.

Garth immediately went tense, gripping the edges of his armrests.

The officer turned his telemonitor around so that they could see the records. "There had been a mix-up, which explains why you weren't pulled out with the rest. But here we are; Oliver Turry, age twenty-eight, designation: bride. I've assigned you to Garth. And Garth, that will be a fee of four hundred dollars."

"Right." Oliver groped for his wallet in his jacket pocket.

This money he had squirreled away for two years, ever since he heard the statesmen were considering designating a new class. That news was all the miners had talked about for weeks. They knew the government on Ohran wanted a more stable community on Monarus, and at least several more decades of settlement before even thinking about sending civilians there. To achieve this, they would have to make the miners happy.

" _Four hundred_ dollars?" Oliver breathed beside him. He suddenly grabbed Garth's wrist and leaned close. "Look, I don't want you to lose out on that much money when this gets all figured out. Maybe there's some other way of convincing them."

Garth felt cornered with the officer watching. "It's fine," he muttered. "Remember what I said?"  _Don't make waves._

Blinking, Oliver blushed a little and sat back. "Right."

Garth went back to pulling the bills out of his wallet and counting them out. He was careful to make sure no one saw he had a full thousand in there, especially Oliver. When he handed the money over to the officer, the man smiled and handed back an info-card. "He's already been chipped. This is his registration and your identification as custodian. Congratulations, Garth."

"Thank you." Garth's voice was rough. Oliver was his.

He stood up, wiping his hands nervously down his thighs. "Let's go," he said. "The weather's bad, we'll have to stay here tonight. I want to make sure we get a room before everything's booked up."

"Ok," Oliver replied, getting to his feet. Out in the hallway, Garth couldn't decide whether to walk beside him or in front of him. He didn't know what to say either, and realized Dell hadn't been quite so off the mark. What if Oliver thought he was boring? Or wasn't attracted to him at all?

Garth already knew he could get hot for Oliver. He liked his smile.

It was Oliver who kept pace beside him. "I've never even seen one hundred dollars at one time, that was a shit ton of money you just threw away. Man, I hope they pay you back when this gets sorted."

"Yeah," Garth replied slowly. Of all things,  _he_  was the one who felt stupid having Oliver go on and on like that. There was no way for them to build anything together if Oliver kept believing he was going to be reassigned soon.

At the end of the hallway, Garth held the door open for him, and near shivered when the other man's shoulder brushed his chest. He hadn't been with anyone for more than six months, the bad roads and cost hadn't allowed it. Just his luck, though, that he still couldn't touch Oliver, not yet at least.

He wanted to know what was under that jumpsuit: what scars Oliver carried (there was no way to be a single poor man on Ohran and not have at least one scar), what shapes his muscles made under his skin and how he felt like under Garth's calloused hands. Oliver'shands, Garth had seen, were un-marred and soft-looking.

It would have been a shame to change that with mining.

"The card hall's have the rooms," Garth said in a low voice. They had paused at the end of the overhang, and Oliver's head was swivelling in every direction.

"I've never seen a street so empty!"

"Well it's pissing rain."

Oliver laughed, his gaze landing on Garth. "Ok, so why do you sound so grumpy about a card hall?"

Garth didn't want all the other miners crowding up on what's his. Of course all of them would be interested in a bride, knowing how he got that way, if more were coming. It would just make things worse. But there was no way he was gonna say that.

"No reason," he said, nodding his head in the direction they had to go.

He listened to Oliver slog through the mud behind him and exclaim over various things, like his surprise that there was already a store selling home goods like furniture.

At that, Garth paused and said, "You want something?"

"What?" Oliver replied, still smiling and looking distracted.

"I didn't bring the hauler, but if you want something under three hundred pounds, my hoverport can manage."

Oliver looked confused for a second and then glanced back over the furniture store. "Oh you mean from there? You don't have to—"

"I shoulda brought an image of the cabin. Stupid," Garth muttered more to himself. "Well I'll just tell you, I have a bed and a wardrobe." Pausing, Garth cursed. "Clothes, I gotta get you some clothes to wear, it's gonna get cold as a witch's tit soon."

"Garth," Oliver chuckled. "Don't waste too much on this, I'll be in the mines soon."

Garth was lost in his own list of what Oliver needed to stop himself from replying with, "you don't know that."

When it occurred to him that the other man hadn't said anything back, he glanced over at him. Oliver was rubbing the back of his neck, eyes downcast. "Well," Oliver said finally, "you're right, I don't know that. So… I guess if you can spare some clothes, I would really appreciate it, Garth."

Garth wanted to touch him. Instead he said, "We'll deal with that in the morning."

**oOo**

The card halls were an institution on Monarus. They were the only outlet for entertainment, and they housed the prostitutes. When Garth first arrived as a teenager, there hadn't been any built yet, but they slowly popped up as the population and demand increased.

He had lost his virginity to a forty year-old prostitute named Terran who he had immediately declared love to afterwards, and who had kindly explained to Garth that no, he was not in love. Terran was eventually wooed by the owner of the card hall he lived in, and wouldn't take any more johns.

After that, Garth didn't get too attached to any one prostitute. And now, as he glanced at Oliver, he realized he wouldn't have to worry about it. He led Oliver to his favorite, a quiet joint that rarely saw any fights.

"Huh, they're all here," Oliver said, breaking Garth of his thoughts.

He should have realized all the other miners with brides would be marooned in Shagalice too, and would want to avoid other men.

When he and Oliver had come through the doors of the card hall, every single one of them were sitting around the tables and chatting. Although, on closer inspection, it was clear the miners were just talking awkwardly and the brides weren't talking at all.

"You should have seen the lecture they gave us," Oliver whispered next to him. "It was like how you talk to children—'Don't skip, you've been chipped!' and all these corny jokes. I swear they did more damage than good. The guys hadn't been so moody before that. That Venn wouldn't answer anyone's questions about fucking."

Garth nearly jerked his neck looking at Oliver so fast. He had to clear his throat before saying, "the brides asked about fucking?"

"Wouldn't you?" Oliver replied with an amused look.

"Like they wanted to know if there was gonna be… that?"

"They know there's gonna be  _that,_ " Oliver replied, stressing the word with a teasing tone. "They just wanted clarification on whether they were gonna be, you know. Violently raped."

Garth had been reeling from how point-blank Oliver was, but now that he was catching up, he realized he appreciated it. "That's not gonna happen."

"Can you say that with a 100% certainty?"

He liked to think he could. He knew all these men at least by name, had worked beside most of them in the mines for years. Not once had he heard of any of them attacking another man, although that had happened before. But not with this crowd. Venn had probably vetted each one before letting him on the list.

"Well it's not gonna happen with me," was all he said.

Oliver looked surprised for a moment, and then grinned. "Well, obviously," he said before walking past Garth.

That stung a little. Garth tried to hide his frown. Seems like there would be constant reminders that Oliver did not consider himself to be a bride. He had left Garth standing at the door like he didn't have to consider him at all, and went right up to… Garth's eyebrows rose and he quickly moved to catch up. He reached Oliver just as the other man waved at Jamal's bride.

"Andrew," Oliver said with his friendly voice, taking a seat opposite.

The man with locs who had been close to scowling before suddenly nodded his head and grinned. From the look on Jamal's face, Garth wasn't the only one surprised by the sudden change in mood.

"You two… got acquainted?" Garth said hesitantly. He stood over Oliver, first unsure whether Jamal wanted them to sit there, and secondly debating whether he should chastise Oliver for going ahead without any kind of permission.

"Sure," Oliver replied happily, pulling the chair next to him out and gesturing towards it. "Actually, we were in the same bunk-room for the trip. Andrew here slept above me and snored loud as 8-charge hoverport engine."

Andrew scoffed. "You're full of shit."

Oliver pointed at Jamal. "You're best off taping his mouth shut if you want any sleep."

Jamal, for once, looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Then he clenched his jaw, "Wouldn't do that."

Watching as Andrew shot an interested look at Jamal, Garth clued into the fact that Oliver had just thawed whatever freeze was going on between them. It was crazy, watching as Andrew's whole body language changed, loosening up and turning more towards Jamal. The next thing he said to him was, "you gotta help me keep my hair good."

Jamal was already nodding before the sentence was complete.

While Andrew started listing what he needed for that process, Garth sat down next to Oliver and leaned closer. "Did you do that on purpose?"

It seemed like Oliver hadn't heard him, but then suddenly he glanced at Garth from the corner of his eye and winked. Garth felt his stomach twist at the devious curve to Oliver's smile. He sat back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, and thought about what those lips would feel like under his own.

"Hey," Andrew said to Oliver, "did you ever get the whole—uh," he stopped for a second and stared hard at Garth. "Well, guess not."

"It's gonna get figured out," Oliver said quickly.

Garth shifted in his chair, suddenly worried about where this conversation was going. He hadn't exactly lied about how hard it was getting a telemail out, but it certainly wouldn't have taken as along as he was planning to stall for.

Andrew still had him pinned with his stare. "He's a class B worker, you know."

 _Didn't need to be reminded of that._ Class B's were not well-liked on Monarus. They had willingly given up their freedom and homeland to be shipped off to this backwater dump. They treated the Class A's like shit, too. Always crowing about how short their terms were.

If Garth thought really hard about it, he figured a Class B had something like this coming to him.

"That's what he says," Garth said finally, his tone neutral. He didn't like the idea of this guy having spent all that time on the ship with Oliver, them talking about their impending fates on Monarus. The sooner he had his bride back home, the better.

It was Jamal who spoke next. "You staying Shagalice tonight?"

"Oh. Shit, right." Garth stood up with a command for Oliver to stay put on the tip of his tongue. But he swallowed it down. "I'm gonna book the room."

**oOo**

At the bar of the card hall, the barkeep held up his finger while he spoke to another patron, so Garth took the moment to drop his head and exhale. He was glad for the time alone to think. When he had pressed those buttons on the telepad, he hadn't considered the fact that Oliver had spent the entire ship ride from Ohran believing he was gonna be a class B worker. He probably spent the whole time talking Andrew's ear off about his plans.

Even now, he didn't think he was a bride. He'd probably want to sleep on the floor.

Garth scratched the rusted metal surface of the bar and frowned. How sick was it that he was mentally bitching and moaning over getting a raw deal with a bride he pretty much stole.

Time would act like sand on Oliver's resistance, grinding it down until he was pliant and amenable to Garth. Class B's were soft anyway. A lot of them gave up before the end of their contract terms and went back to Ohran with an extreme amount of debt to their names.

 _Not Oliver,_ Garth thought, watching as the barkeep headed his way.

Garth had switched Oliver's contract over to a Class A, a man who would find five years from then that he was free and owned a tract of land. He wouldn't correct the justice clerk, not if he was smart. And then, no government official would come searching for the Class B who hadn't paid his dues.

After shelling out two dollars for the room, Garth headed back to Jamal's table to find Andrew and Oliver in the middle of a card game.

"Jamal's out smoking a cig," Oliver said.

"Oh." Feeling awkward, Garth glanced over at the door. "I'm gonna go bum one."

Oliver smiled at him distractedly, and then got back to the game. Garth watched them for a second, irrationally annoyed with the idea of leaving the other man alone with Andrew, but he didn't want to just lurk. So, he turned and walked away.

All of the buildings in Shagalice were built on platforms so the rainwater could stream under them without flooding the streets.

Garth found Jamal sitting at the edge of the card hall's platform, legs dangling over the edge. He had his arms resting on the metal fence and held a lit cig pinched between his fingers. He exhaled. And then looked up at Garth.

There were hoverports blowing by in the darkness. Across the street, another card hall was in full swing.

Garth sat down next to Jamal. "I ain't got one fucking clue."

A small, sharp smile spread on Jamal's face. "I don't envy you. Being pissed is one thing, but trying to pretend you ain't a bride? What's he thinking?"

Garth shook his head.

"Well…" Jamal sounded tired. He rubbed at his eye.

"You think Andrew's gonna settle?" Garth prompted.

"He'd better."

There was a legitimate edge to Jamal's voice, but Garth wasn't so oblivious that he hadn't heard the fear as well. It was exactly what he was feeling. "You got some kinda plan?"

"Yeah." Jamal tapped a finger at his temple. "All up here. He's allowed two weeks of being skittish and rebellious, then he has to sleep in my bed. He gets another month, and then we get off with each other, doesn't matter how. He can make that call."

"Punishment?" Garth prompted, curious.

Jamal's face tightened. "Ain't considered that yet. Don't want to."

Neither did Garth. Situation hadn't come to that yet. And if things really did devolve so far that he was hitting Oliver…  _shit. "_ Are we sick? Are we wrong to think these guys will come to like us?"

"Nah," Jamal replied. "They had nothing on Ohran. They fucked up so bad, they weren't even offered a second chance at being freemen. We're giving them homes, food, and a warm bed. They'll appreciate that."

"Yeah, I guess."

Jamal took another drag from his cig and exhaled. "Timmy fucked me over. I told him where the cash was cuz he said—fucker said he had shown trust by agreeing to live out in the middle of nowhere, so then I had to show trust, too."

Before Garth could respond, Jamal flicked some ash away and laughed. "Andrew can't spend money, you know? He walks into Shagalice, and that little chip in his arm lets all the shops and card halls and  _ship ports_ know he's a bride. My bride."

He looked at Garth with steely eyes. "Don't keep looking for ways to regret this, man. You won't find any."

**oOo**

In a fit of optimism, or maybe it was delusion, Garth had booked a room with only one bed.

He wasn't even sure if the card halls had rooms with more than one, they were only used for fucking after all. And Oliver didn't seem to mind, he had walked straight over to junky flea-ridden and flopped down on his back. "Can I just say," he pronounced somewhat wryly, "sedatives really knock the shit out of you."

Dithering at the entryway for a moment, Garth finally found his balls and joined Oliver. He sat down stiffly at the corner of the bed. "Did it hurt?"

"The needle?"

Garth grunted.

"Nah. I just—" Going silent for a moment, Oliver's voice wavered when he continued, "—when that Venn guy kept insisting I was a bride, I felt like I was hearing everything from far away."

He twisted around to his side, so that his back was to Garth. "Andrew had told me about the whole bride thing on the ship. How it's permanent."

Garth wanted to reach out and stroke his side. "It's not supposed to be bad, though."

"Yeah, I know." He heard a sniff from Oliver. "Don't worry, Garth. I don't think badly of you for wanting one. Maybe there will be more coming soon."

Garth pinched the bridge of his nose. He felt trapped. Of course—obviously, the most ideal situation was for Oliver to like him. But if Garth kept going down this road, this "helping Oliver get his designation back" road, then the other man would never see Garth as what he was: his master.

But Garth had waited fifteen years to get to this point, to have enough money for whatever he needed. He had spent night after night in his cold bed listening to the rains outside, those endless rains. No one would come to his cabin. Once when he was drunk, he had even begged Dell over the comm to come over, he'd even pay for the hoverport fuel. Didn't even consider that the other man was a five day drive from him.

It was raining now. But there was a lamp on beside the table, and Garth could see Oliver clearly, could see each breath he took clearly.

"They're probably not gonna send any for awhile," Garth said. "Took this long for the first batch. And there ain't that many freemen who could buy one to begin with."

"Well, I owe you, Garth. I really do."

Garth was silent.

"Are you friend with Venn? Can he get a telemail out to Ohran?"

Shifting around, Garth laid down on his side, a mere foot from Oliver's back. "I don't know," he said slowly. "Venn and I ain't that close. Might take a couple of months to work something out. Plus it costs so much to grease palms around here…"

"I'll work your mines, Garth. Anything I can do to help."

"I can't let someone who's never mined work the rock. I don't have all those safety measures the government mines have."

A few moments passed, the rain pounding on the roof.

"You really wanted one, didn't you," Oliver whispered.

Garth felt a prickle down his spine, but didn't say anything.

"That's why you handed over the money."

There was something new in Oliver's voice. Something wary. He curled away from Garth a little.

Garth wanted to snatch him back. He wanted to reach out and drag Oliver back by the arm, roll on top of him and press their bodies together until Oliver gave up struggling against his advances. Instead he said, "Maybe we can get a message out with the next big tesac rock export."

Immediately, Oliver rolled around to look at him with hopeful eyes. "Really?"

"If I know the captain…"

A grin that could have lit up the room spread across Oliver's face, his brown eyes shining. "Shit, Garth." He reached out and clasped Garth's shoulder. "You're a good man. You definitely have so many good things coming to you!"

"Do I?" Garth replied levelly.

Oliver's smile turned devious and suddenly he cozied right up to Garth, tucking his head under Garth's chin. His heart skipping a beat, for a moment Garth thought he was gonna get off with the other man, but Oliver just nestled in and sighed. "When I settle my contract, I'm gonna find you and buy you a drink."

"Ha," Garth forced out.

He had realized Oliver had no intention of doing anything with him.

How easy it would be to reach around and grab the other man's ass. This stupid bastard who was gonna have an easy five year contract. Garth hated Oliver suddenly. And he hated himself. But Jamal was right.

Tomorrow, Garth thought. Tomorrow, Oliver's life as a bride would begin.


	4. Chapter 4

_The first step toward change is awareness. The second step is acceptance._

**oOo**

Garth woke up because his feet were chilled.

The light coming through the windows was dim, and it was raining outside. He hoped that would pass before they had to go. Although traveling during bad weather was possible, the inundated dirt roads and possible mudslides make the journey far more dangerous than it should be.

Sitting up, he checked the clock on the hotel nightstand and sighed. 4AM. Time to get up anyway.

He glanced around. Oliver was on his side towards Garth, curled up, arms circled tight around his pillow. Asleep, his face was smooth. There was no tenseness to his body, no half-aware guard up that most miners developed eventually, if only to keep their packs from getting stolen in the night. He was an innocent babe.

Garth wondered if he could keep him that way.

With a gentle hand, he shook Oliver's shoulder. Brown eyes squinted open, and an irritated sneer crossed Oliver's face. "What time is it?"

Garth almost felt like chuckling. He hadn't heard that kind of indignant tone in relation to the morning for a long time. "We have to go," he said.

Seemingly coming to reality, Oliver's loose annoyance disappeared and he pushed himself up, looking about the room. His longish hard was tangled, locks of it falling in his face, which he pushed back over his head. "Well," he said slowly. "Good morning, Garth."

"We've got some things to buy, and then we have to hit the road. Takes three days to get back to my cabin, we want to use all the daylight we got."

Oliver was staring blankly at the windows. Then he turned to look at Garth, and smiled a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You won't say good morning to me?"

Garth, who had already been calculating the costs of what Oliver needed in his head, blinked. "Morning," he said gruffly.

The smile on Oliver's face became a little less tired. With a nod, he got out of bed, stretching his arms up. He was a skinny man, with the type of arms Garth himself had been embarrassed about as a teenager. He had a stretched-out sort of body, long limbs that would take miles of kisses, and a gawky nature about him. Garth wanted to see what his ass looked like.

But he was still wearing that damn jumpsuit.

Garth swung his feet around and pulled his boots on. "Shit, the tailor's gonna take at least half the day."

"Tailor?" Oliver said thoughtfully. "...you know, we don't have to rush outta town just like that."

With a snort, Garth pulled his laces taut. "I've been gone for four days now, that's lost wages. We ain't wasting anymore time then we need to."

"But how will I get a message out from your cabin?"

Garth paused, a frown on his face. Then he stood up and faced Oliver. "That's not gonna happen today, or tomorrow, or even this month. The next tesac rock export is in the summer."

"The-the summer?" Very very slowly, acceptance clouded Oliver's face, and Garth felt a tinge of triumph. "The summer," Oliver repeated flatly.

No cutting slack now, not when they were finally on the right track. "That's right. And then another half-year to get a message to Ohran and back. So you might as well get settled in with me."

He knew that last bit was gonna hit hard, and from the way Oliver flinched, he was right. There was only one way to interpret "settled in".

Oliver started rubbing his arm nervously. "Garth-"

"Have I done anything cruel?"

"No..."

"Have I laid hands on you in violence?"

Oliver shook his head like a reticent child.

"Then wipe that sorry look off your face. Things could be worse."

"But I'm not a bride!" His reserved attitude had finally cracked apparently. "This isn't fair, I don't know you, Garth. I'm supposed to be a class B miner, I'm supposed to get my own land in five years. That's the contract I signed. I was never sentenced to be someone else's bitch. Fuck, Garth, I thought you said you believed me."

"I-"

This was it. This was how they were going to move things forward. Garth gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head."I understand being scared. I understand coming up with a lie to protect yourself. You didn't know how you would be treated here."

Oliver was shaking. He was gripping his hands into fists. "Don't do this."

Steeling himself, Garth continued. "I made a promise to help you contact the justice clerk, Oliver. And I will do that. But... I paid a lot of money for you."

"And you expect something in return."

"Yes."

Going against Garth's expectation, Oliver seemed to calm down. "Ok," he said sedately.

Well... the acceptance had been tepid, but Garth would take it.

But then, before Garth could respond, Oliver beat a hasty retreat for the bathroom "I'm gonna shower real quick," he said.

It wasn't until the door closed, and the lock clicked, that Garth realized the other man had ignored his plans for the day, and the urgency in which they had to hit the road. It wasn't like he expected Oliver to be some completely obedient/subservient robot of a bride, but he damn sure had to listen when things were important.

He didn't know what to do with himself, pacing awkwardly in the dark hotel room. A different man, a man who knew what he was about, would have busted into that bathroom while Oliver was vulnerable, and made his intentions clear, but Garth wasn't like that… was he? Or was he a coward?

Garth strode over to the bathroom door and rapped his knuckles against it. "Hey. You got three minutes."

He heard the shower pipes clank, the water shutting off. "What?"

"Three. Minutes."

When there was no answer, Garth felt himself going back on his own conviction, and was ready to say something compromising to back-pedal, but then he heard the shower shut off again. "I was done anyway," Oliver said, "just wanted a quick wash."

Garth exhaled. "Fine."

**oOo**

The door swung open. There Oliver was completely naked, and Garth hadn't stepped away. They were face to face.

Oliver's cheeks pinked a little bit.

Goddamn it. Garth looked down at the ground. He was too embarrassed to even look at his bride properly, like some wimpy teenage boy. This was not going right at all. This—

Palms slapped against his cheeks. His face was drawn up and Oliver kissed him. Garth was so fucking shocked, he shoved the other man away forcefully, heart pounding, and cursed when Oliver hit the floor.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Garth muttered quickly, kneeling down and putting his hands on Oliver, rubbing his arms. "You can't make sudden moves on a man like that here, we're always half-cocked for a fight." Excited, he leaned in for another kiss just as Oliver turned his head, and his lips pressed against wetness.

It would be so easy to ignore that. Garth wanted to. But instead he leaned away, inspected Oliver in the light coming from the bathroom, and knew that man had been crying at least a bit. He was panting like a little rodent.

"You scared of me?" Garth said lowly. His grip tightened on Oliver's wrists, and the other man winced. Garth frowned. "Shit, Oliver. Then why did you kiss me?"

"I don't want you to rape me."

With a sigh, Garth let go and leaned back on his haunches. "I don't want to rape you, either. I don't know that I could, can't imagine keeping it up in that kinda situation."

Oliver wiped compulsively at his mouth. "Let's just go to Venn. Get your money back."

"I don't want the money back," Garth replied levelly.

For a moment, Oliver looked truly upset, but then his face closed off. "You could end my designation... I'd pay you back..."

Garth was shaking his head before Oliver had even finished talking, a well of anger rising in his gut. "Hell no," he muttered. His face felt hot. He stood up, towering over Oliver. "Not one of us who got brides is gonna end the designations, trust me on that. And don't try sweet talking me into it, either."

He had no doubt a couple of brides were already working on buttering up their custodians, getting them to fall for it hook, line and sinker. Then the lunkheads would release the brides, thinking they would live on equal footing and in love. Yeah fucking right. The brides would take off in a heartbeat, try to make a go of mining on their own.

"Sweet talking!" Oliver jumped up and grabbed Garth's collar. "Listen to me—"

Garth clapped him on the thigh and he yelped, letting go as he tensed into a defensive posture.

"Sit over there," Garth roared, pointing at the bed. He wanted to curse and bust his fist into the wall. But he knew that would make things worse. His hand stung from hitting Oliver, who had followed his orders and was cowering away on the bed, hands clenched around the blankets.

Fuck. Garth was ashamed and angry and couldn't be in the same room as Oliver, not then. He grabbed his coat and stomped for the door, but not before turning saying with warning thick in his voice: "You don't take one step out of this room, got it?"

Oliver nodded.

**oOo**

Garth found Venn at his office in city hall. Nicest room in the joint, it had plush leather chairs and a wide desk. The windows looked out over the main street of Shagalice. Never had Garth been in such a nice room before, not even on Ohran.

"I hit him," Garth said, standing before Venn like a criminal on trial.

Venn was leaning back in his big chair, one hand on his desk, fingers playing with the corner of some paper. "So?"

"So-" Garth paused at Venn's cocked eyebrow and modulated his voice. "So, the first real touch between us..." Garth couldn't even finish.

"Did you punch him? Did you whip him?"

"I gave him a smack on the thigh."

"A smack?" Venn said with a sharp laugh. "Shit, Garth. You had me going there for a second with that hangdog look of yours. A few little lovetaps ain't gonna kill a man. You of all people know what he would be facing in the mines. He's the lucky one."

"He thinks I'm gonna do worse."

"Then don't do worse." Venn smiled widely. "But don't promise anything either. If he's already got you angry enough to hit, then definitely don't promise anything."

Garth felt like shit. And Venn was not making it better. "Anyone else having problems?"

"Well, sure. Had a few complaints, but nothing heinous. Although, they were all meant to be brides."

Garth opened his mouth and Venn held his hand up. "That's not passing judgement, Garth. I understand and ... almost admire what you did. But I'm just stating a fact. All the other brides were already prepared for their roles. You've got a feral one."

Hard to see Oliver as feral, but Garth knew what he meant.

Venn leaned forward. "And you need to count to three before taking action. You're so wound up over what he thinks, but you ran off and left him alone and scared instead of talking through it?"

_...shit._

"I was still angry..." Garth offered weakly.

Considering him for a moment, Venn sat back in his chair. Then he sighed. "Well, Garth. What you could do-is fuck him up a little. Start off being mean, don't feed him much, let him freeze a little. Then you come in with the nice stuff, and make him think he's lucky. You see where I'm going?"

Garth tried to picture treating Oliver like that. "Would it really work?"

"Depends on how stubborn he is. A mule would get frostbite before giving up, but a lamb would cozy up fast." Venn stood up and walked around the desk to lean next to Garth. "It's not fun for either of you, but it works."

"What if he's stubborn?"

Venn looked almost regretful. "You gotta figure out the line for yourself. Go too far, and he will hold it against you forever, no matter how nice you treat him." He must have seen the troubled thoughts going on inside Garth's head, because he patted his shoulder. "It's just something to think about."

"Yeah."

"Now go back to your bride before the poor thing works himself up into a lather."

Garth nodded. "Thanks, Venn."

Outside on the street, things were slower than the day before. News of the brides arrival had probably stirred up excitement which was now drained.

Garth walked down the sidewalk with his hands stuffed in his pockets. What Venn had told him made sense, but he was reluctant to treat Oliver badly. That hadn't been what he wanted at all-he wanted to spend his money on his bride, he wanted to buy expensive spices for him, and new clothes. Show him that Garth wasn't a cheapskate.

There had to be something in that. Oliver would see how good life with Garth was, and realize how shitty life in the mines would be... Right? Garth tugged at his tie. He couldn't wait to get back to his cabin and back to his normal work outfit. The suit was itchy.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sight of Dell loading up a hoverport, his bride standing by the sidewalk.

"Hey," Garth said, his voice flat.

Looked like Dell had bought a whole bunch of things for Cory. There was a stuffed canvas bag and two crates from the general store.

"Garth!" Dell was flushed and grinning. He bounded up to the sidewalk, and wrapped his arm around his bride's waist. "Cory, this is my friend Garth, he taught me how to mine."

Cory, definitely a beauty just like Dell wanted, was watching Garth with an unreadable expression. "Hi," he said.

Garth nodded in return. "You boys taking off for home?"

"That's right, they said the rain's gonna let up soon," Dell replied. He got some sort of look on his face, and nuzzled against Cory's neck.

Garth shifted awkwardly. "Glad to see you two are getting on."

"Yeah!" Dell let go of Cory and went back to loading the hoverport. "We had a long talk last night."

Talking didn't seem like something Cory did, but Garth would just have to take Dell's word for it. He knew the younger man wasn't cruel, if maybe a bit too eager. He wouldn't hurt Cory...

Not like Garth, who had hit Oliver.

"I gotta go," Garth said. "Be careful on the road back."

Dell saluted him with a grin, and Garth continued on down the sidewalk. He and Dell weren't exactly close neighbors, but he wondered if it would be possible do as Dell had suggested before-get the group together so the brides could have some friends.

He wondered how Cory and Oliver would take.

He wasn't sure how he would handle Oliver liking other people more than him, preferring their company.

The cardhall was coming up, and with each step Garth felt more and more wary. He had been stupid to leave Oliver alone like that, scared, and scared of Garth. Venn was right, he should have cleared matters up immediately. But he had been so angry.

In the room, Garth found Oliver sitting by the window. He looked up and said, "I saw you coming down the street."

Garth was looking at a stranger.

He sat down on the bed. "Where are you from?"

There was a curious little flash in Oliver's eyes and then he turned a little so that he was directed towards Garth. "Sharoc, fifth ward. I had a pretty good childhood."

Garth tried to remember where Sharoc was. If Oliver had grown up in a fifth ward, though, he probably wasn't lying when he said he had a good childhood. "Why leave?"

"I'm a third son."

Ah. Garth nodded. The only way to really stay above the grime on Ohran was money, and the only way to have money was through family. If Oliver's brothers were greedy, there wouldn't be anything left for him.

"Know any women?"

Oliver smiled like he couldn't help it. "My mother, and I have a younger sister."

Garth nodded. He had only known his mother. At ten, he had been shipped off to the young males ward and hadn't seen a woman since. Not that he expected Oliver to give a shit about his own past. "Did get to say goodbye to them?"

Oliver's smile turned more contemplative, and he drew a knee up to his chest, hugging his leg. "They threw a party for me, actually. Just the three of us. My brothers had stopped talking to me by then, obviously. They haven't been able to look me in the eyes since I was shunted off to the tenth ward."

So he had lived a life of people screwing him over. Great.

"Why do you ask?"

How to answer that...I just wanted to know more about you. Yeah right. Garth stood up. "Let's get going." Oliver didn't press further, and just followed along as they left the cardhall.

**oOo**

The first stop of Garth's list was the tailor, just to get that out of the way.

The man who made clothes for the miners of Monarus was an old coot who was kicked off Ohran for feeling up young boys who came to his shop. No one liked being around him, but they all got the feeling he didn't like being around them either. Served him right, being exiled to a planet of men all aged past his liking. His name was Taberus.

Garth kept an eye on him as he took Oliver's measurements. "I want two winter coats, three pants, longjohns, everything. I want him fully kitted out."

"Whoa, big spender," Taberus said mockingly.

Ignoring him, Garth leaned back against the shop wall and went back to his calculating. He had a lot of food stored at home, but nothing special... he hadn't ever felt like eating anything that was more than nutritionally needed. But having a bride at home was reason enough to purchase some delicious things.

What Venn had said before made sense.

But.

If that kinda method actually worked, if Garth thought he could get Oliver to settle down and be happy with his position by playing mean, then he would do it. But it seemed to him that Oliver would cotton on pretty quickly. He might get worn down, but he wouldn't be happy. They wouldn't be lovers.

"You're investing a lot into this."

In the midst of his thoughts, Garth hadn't noticed that Taberus was gone, and only Oliver stood there watching him.

"I am," Garth replied plainly. He took note of the way Oliver couldn't bring himself to say 'me' instead of 'this'.

"What if I run off?"

Garth shrugged. "You'd come back. No way to survive out there with nothing."

A scoff escaped Oliver's lips, his eyes sparking just a little with rebellion. "What if I get word out to Ohran myself?"

"I don't know how you would do that," Garth replied. "I don't know why you would try. I promised to get the message through on the tesac rock export, and that's the fastest way of doing things."

Oliver seemed properly chastised, but only for a moment. "You're not a gambler. You don't think a message to the justice clerk will work."

"I don't know if it will work or not," Garth said semi-truthfully. He had Venn's assurances that no one on Ohran would care, but that wasn't a guarantee. Nothing in life was guaranteed. "Here's all the cards on the table, Oliver: you're a bad deal, but one I made with my eyes open, because there weren't any alternative. If a bride who wouldn't give me so much shit was offered right now, I would take him and pack you back off to the disbursement office for some other sad sack to deal with."

There was a moment there when Garth could have fixed what he just did. But he froze, and the words sunk in, and Oliver seemed to shrink just a little more. "Please don't do that," he said softly.

Garth cleared his throat. "I won't." He let his voice trail off, letting if you're good be said through implication.

After that, they didn't speak while Taberus came back in and finished with the measurements. He shooed them away saying he would be done in several hours, so Garth decided they would head to the general store.

There, he let Oliver drift away from him awhile.

He was slowly making his way down the spice aisle when he heard some rustling and sounds of amusement. Ducking down, he spied through the racks and saw Jamal.

He had Andrew pressed up against the general store's back wall, one thigh held up to his side. He was whispering something low in Andrew's ear as he slowly ground his hips forward.

Clutching Jamal's shoulders, Andrew had his eyes pressed shut and he was moaning.

Garth's breath came out heavy.

He heard a thunk behind him.

"Shit," Oliver muttered. He had dropped a can.

Snatching his wrist, Garth dragged him down the aisle and through the store until they were on the opposite end, where he then shoved Oliver until his back hit the stack of crates behind him. "Just because you're gonna leave me high and dry doesn't mean you get to fuck it up for the others!"

"What?" Oliver snapped as he steadied himself. "Shit, Garth, I dropped something. That wasn't intentional. I didn't think I'd see two guys getting it on in a store, why would I?"

He was right. Of course he was right. Garth was losing it. He backed off a step.

"And I won't leave you high and dry."

Garth took a moment to respond. Oliver wasn't looking at him. He was looking at the ground and rubbing the back of his neck.

"You won't?" Garth said hesitatingly.

"Just give me a little time to get used to you."

Garth started nodding. "I can do that."

Of course he could do that. He waited ten years for freedom, right? For his own land? He could wait a couple of days for Oliver to warm up to him, hell they had a whole three days of sitting next to each other on the hoverport. By then... the awkwardness might be gone entirely.

The excitement of getting a bride, of choosing to do what he did, had made Garth a little crazy. He wasn't like that, of course. Back at the cabin, Oliver would see what a reliable and steady man he was, would see how Garth could take care of him. In a few hours, they had come so far already. Oliver had accepted his position. Venn was wrong, Garth didn't need to play any games to win Oliver over. Everything would work out... with patience.

**oOo**

* * *

**(a/n)** thank you for the comments! next chapter we get inside oliver's head ;)


	5. Chapter 5

_What loneliness is more lonely than distrust?_

**oOo**

Oliver had called out to Garth because he thought was cute. That's all it was.

After spending months on the transport ship, shoved together with hundreds of other sweaty men, that first breath of fresh, cold, wet Monarus air had been invigorating. Uplifting. Exciting. And so bouyed by those feelings, Oliver had called out to the gruff yet shy looking man strolling down the lines of prisoners.

Garth was stuffed in a blue suit that was bursting at the seams, the cut too small for a man with well-developed muscles.

Of course, that whole memory felt like a dream—considering Oliver had been heavily sedated soon after.

He woke up on a gurney in a hallway. His arms were shackled to the sides. A man was standing over him, staring at him pensively. "Oliver," he had said. "You won't beat this."

And then Oliver had faded out again.

On the transport ship, he had made friends with Andrew. He was pretty sure the initial bond was made only so Andrew would have someone to help maintain his locs throughout the trip. But he was the one who brought up being a bride. Oliver certainly wasn't going to mention it.

"They said this or the needle."

"What did you do?"

"Don't ask that question. And I killed someone."

Andrew didn't elaborate on who the someone was, and Oliver didn't push. Instead he listened to Andrew muse over what bride duties would entail. "Course', the clerk said it was just cleaning and cooking," he laughed, "but then the guards were talking like I was gonna have a train rammed up my ass."

"You only go to one man...right?"

Andrew had scratched at his bare chest unconcernedly. "Right."

"You ever been with a man?"

"Is there someone who hasn't?"

Oliver had slept with a girl. He  _certainly_  wasn't  _ever_  going to tell  _anyone_  about that.

**oOo**

Garth was still cute to him, logically. But his touch felt like ants crawling up Oliver's arms.

That's what he said to Andrew while Jamal and Garth were over at the tackle counter arguing about something to do with bait.

He and Andrew were sitting on the ground like bored children, racks of sturdy overalls hanging all around them. Andrew was picking at a nail with his usual air of nonchalance, even though Oliver had seen what he was just doing.

"What?," he chuckled in reply to Oliver's tense words. "You saying you'll puke if he fucks you?"

"What if he wants me to fuck him?"

Andrew seemed supremely amused by that. "None of these dumbfucks have the balls to ask for a fucking."

With a groan, Oliver dropped his face in his palms. He could practically feel Andrew's amused gaze on him.

"Why is fucking the thing you're so worried about?"

Oliver leaned up again. "What?" he asked dubiously.

"In, out. Suck. Whatever. You're lying on a bed and it's over. That's the easy part. Are you listening to what these assholes have been saying? We gotta live out in the middle of bumfuck nowhere with one other guy? We're the entertainment? And they're out mining all day, man. I've never been alone that long."

"And it's forever," Oliver continued for him. Andrew nodded like Oliver had finally caught on to his meaning. "Do you think Jamal will end your designation?"

Andrew scoffed, but the humor didn't reach his eyes. He started picking at his nail again. "He already told me about him being screwed over by some cutie with a honey tongue. Said I ain't ever gonna be able to use money or own land."

"That's now," Oliver replied earnestly, dread pitting his own belly. "Right? Eventually..."

"These guys are crazy. We're gonna end up crazy like them."

He said it so matter-of-factly, but Oliver supposed that kinda attitude might come to someone whose choice was this or death. Oliver still had hope in him. "I want to own land."

"Yeah, yeah. You'd still end up like them."

"I'd get my own bride," Oliver pushed, smiling a little. He looked over at Garth and Jamal, their faces close up together as they peered down at something in Garth's hand. They were frowning and muttering at each other. "How long do you think it takes to learn how to survive here?"

"Jamal's been planetside for almost twenty years."

Oliver realized he hadn't asked Garth how long he had been on Monarus. But the man was rich enough to pay for a bride, which had to mean something. Thinking about that, Oliver wondered what it was like to live out alone day after day, just mining tesac rock. Then he realized he was starting to feel bad for Garth...

It couldn't be that horrible. Garth and Jamal were obviously friends, and Jamal didn't seem like the type to  _have_  friends. When Oliver first saw him, the way such a tense man was looking at Andrew with such naked hunger in his eyes—not just lust, but overwhelming  _need_ —Oliver had felt compelled to break the ice between them.

Andrew probably knew what he had been up to, though.

Oliver sighed. "So you're getting along with him?"

"He's alright."

"I saw you guys back there, you know."

"Oh yeah?"

There was a layer of barbed wire in his tone. Oliver knew Andrew wasn't embarrassed about being seen, but he obviously did not want to discuss it. Just thinking of those moans that had come from Andrew's mouth… the question of whether he was faking them hung heavy in the air, or at least it did for Oliver. He decided to change the subject.

"We'll get to talk, right?"

"They got those comm things. And we'd probably be able to negotiate some kinda overnight visits."

"I'd like that." Oliver was very careful as he continued with, "Garth promised to send a message to the justice clerk."

"Hmm."

"Do you think he won't?"

"I don't know, man. I don't know him."

"I should contact my mom instead." Maybe she could get word to Oliver's oldest brother, Thomas, who worked with the government. He would be able to get a private audience with the justice clerk, might be able to get his mess sorted out. But would Thomas waste his precious time like that? And his precious favors? He probably already considered Oliver as dead.

Garth and Jamal had moved on to the hunting rifles. Garth was a bit taller than Jamal, and more heavily built, but Jamal had a lean, wiry strength to him. The way they spoke and pointed at things in sync only served as a reminder that Oliver had no idea how to go about living on Monarus. "We would have learned all this while working at the government mines."

"You would have. If you didn't die first."

"Well maybe we can learn everything from them." Oliver sat up a little bit. "He said no before, but I bet Garth might come around to teaching me how to mine."

Andrew was back to staring at his fingers and shaking his head as his lip curled. "Nuh-uh. No. They're gonna do everything just shy of hobbling us."

Well! Oliver had to laugh. "We're not  _that_  special!"

"Did you, or did you not see that mob forming across the street at the disbursement center?"

Thinking back to the group of miners, Oliver frowned. He had still been a little woozy from the sedatives, and a little sick from the nightmare he had found himself in. "They were there because of us?"

"Because they didn't get not-so-special us."

"Why not just fuck each other?"

"They do." Andrew glanced at Oliver and grinned. "But they want  _loveeee._ " He managed to turn the word into something disdainful.

"Funny way of going about it."

"Well." Andrew seemed to lose energy, his smile fading as he watched Jamal and Garth haggle with the shopkeeper. "Could be worse."

That was, and was not, true.  _Could be worse—_ Oliver could have been stuck with someone more amorous than Garth. Or someone sadistic, he supposed. Or he could be at the mines, working his five year contract off. Who knows when he would finally get started on that...he wanted to be done before he was in his late thirties.

"Hey," Andrew said to him. "Message me on the comm sometimes."

Oliver's eyebrows rose. "Well, you too!"

"Oh I will, man. I..." For a second, there was fear on his face. "Not sure how I'm gonna handle being alone like that. I don't know how they do it."

Like a slick thread of egg yolk, that thought slid out of Oliver's grasp. Even though he knew he was avoiding it, he just couldn't worry about the exact thing that had driven these men to purchase brides in the first place. "It can't be that bad," he said weakly.

"Mhm." Quick as a fox, Andrew suddenly leaned over and pecked Oliver's cheek, and whispered: "Be good, you sweet boy."

Before Oliver could stutter out a response, he noticed that Garth and Jamal were heading over. "I will call you," he said earnestly.

Andrew gave him a half smile. Then with a grunt, he got to his feet and held his hand down to Oliver, who took it. Together they waited for their ... owners?

masters?

Oliver didn't know.

**oOo**

"Wow...yikes."

He had seen plenty of hoverports in his life. But none put together from bits and pieces hauled across space. He was pretty sure he could spot and name at least three different models spliced into the heap of junk.

Oliver looked at Garth, ready to say something to that effect, when he caught the hesitant look on Garth's face. "Uh—" He tripped. "It's great, yeah. You must have spent a lot on it!"

The pride that had been hidden beneath a nervous mask surfaced completely. Garth's lips spread into a happy smile as he rubbed the back of his head. "Truth is, I put her together myself."

"Really?" For some reason that was a mystery even to himself, Oliver kept playing along with the impressed act. He slid his palm over the rested hulk of metal that made up the hoverport's front end. The beast was about sixteen feet long. There was front cab, which had seats and a cot in the back, while most of the space was left for hauling.

"The big rig's back at home," Garth said, "I use this puppy for quick trips, or if I didn't get much tesac."

Oliver nodded along, trying to absorb the info. This is what it took to be successful on Monarus. He had to keep in mind that Garth wasn't just anyone, he was one of the few who really made it there.

He rapped his knuckles against the driver seat's thick glass window.

"Raiders," Garth said.

 _Raiders?_  Oliver shot him a questioning look.

"Could be freemen, could be government miners," Garth continued. He crossed his arms, his expression going dark. "They try to lift what we've mined for ourselves. But I've never heard anyone get away with that, ever. They're just desperate."

"Oh."

"And this is just a safety precaution."

"Right."

Garth's excitement had obviously withered. Once again, Oliver felt compelled to make him feel better. "Well, it looks, uh. Durable."

"Oh, she is. Hull's made of tellonium, can carry about five tons of tesac. The cab's all decked out for comfort, I got a range top in there and a small fridge. The bed will be a little cramped..." He trailed off, suddenly looking very abashed. He cleared his throat. "Well, anyway. You just think of anything else you might need here, and I'll load up."

"Sure."

And like that, Oliver stood beneath the overhang as rain fell, watching the greyed-out form of Garth hustling to stow all the purchases he made for Oliver into the hoverport. There were clothes, food, books, and even some tabletop games. Just thinking of how hopeful Garth looked when he picked those out made Oliver's head hurt.

Oliver thought of what Andrew said:  _we're the entertainment_

Did that really mean Garth wouldn't expect him to do any work? That he was just there to spread his legs at night and play dice games?

He shivered, and wrapped his arms around himself.

He wished had had something from Ohran... anything. Part of his B Class contract had stipulated that only his passage to Monarus was paid for. Not luggage. Not anything else.

 _Oh well._  He had already been prepared for that. Nearly three years had passed since Oliver first decided to leave Ohran. He was living in a small, cramped apartment building in the tenth ward, a pillbox of a room that could barely fit his bed and a table, when he heard about Monarus.

There had always been the stigma—Monarus was a thieve's colony, it was where overflow prisoners who were deemed useless to society were sent. And yet contract work was in demand. Ohran wanted a legitimate society there, and to do that, they needed men with no criminal record. Meanwhile, Oliver  _needed_  to start fresh. He  _had_  to leave. For several reasons.

The recruiter told him that there were hundreds of acres waiting for him, just as long as he completed his five years. He would walk away from the government mines with a land deed and several hundred dollars to start out with. His role would be to civilize untamed land, to keep the roads up around his home, to build plumbing and generator lines. He could do that!

Or at least, he would learn how to. That's what he thought. Anything for his own land. Anything not to be beholden to his brothers.

"About done."

Garth shut the hoverport's back doors and turned the latch. He wiped his hands and then slowly eased them into his pockets. He was still wearing his suit, and Oliver was fully coming to understand how uncomfortable Garth felt in it. He finally looked at Oliver hesitatingly. "Think of anything?"

He had already bought powdered cream for coffee, several jars of spices, a whole flank of frozen turang meat—not a delicacy, but not an animal found on Monarus, apparently—candies, several bags of flour, and a crate of mosha (the only alcohol Oliver could stomach). Garth's hands had been shaking when he bought that, and Oliver had nearly chuckled at whatever that man had been thinking about getting him warm and tipsy.

"I'm fine," Oliver said.

"Then... I suppose it's time to hit the road."

Even though Garth was talking slowly, Oliver had the feeling he was champing at the bit. Down the road, city hall was bustling. What would happen if Oliver just sprinted there and begged for amnesty? Begged for contact with Ohran?

There was some advice his mother had given his sister: no matter what, don't get into the hoverport. They may hurt you, they may hit you, but you're still alive. The second the bad men have you in their hoverport, that's it. You're dead. You're gone. You're headed off to the second location where no one will ever find you.

"Can we wait just one more day?" Oliver said. The words had left his mouth without him even thinking.

Garth's entire hopeful demeanor seemed to shrink and fade, his shoulders slumping. He inhaled one long breath, and then opened the door to the hoverport. "Let's go," he said without any life.

The thing hovered about three feet off the ground, and it didn't have a patron ladder like the hovertaxis on Ohran did.

"Um..." Oliver paused at the door. "Give me a hand?"

Unblinkingly, Garth held his palm out and stared at Oliver's fingers gripping his as Oliver put his foot on the rim and heaved himself up.

With an ungraceful plop, he landed on the fabric bench seat and scrambled to the passenger side. Garth was right behind him, coming up with one slick jump.

Whatever nervous energy he had been carrying seemed to dissipate with his hands on the wheel. "Alright," he said, twisting the ignition. The energycels revved to life and the hoverport jumped a little before settling down to its usual thrumming height. "Let me know if you get cold or anything."

With that, Garth pulled out into the street. Oliver rolled his window down, stuck his head out, and watched Shagalice disappear behind them.

**oOo**

Garth had said something about the terrain, but seeing it was something else. Monarus was an endless cascade of mountains and valleys made soggy by endless rain. The road they were on was more river than dirt.

Above all though, was the silence.

On Ohran, there is nothing but crowds. People talking. In the bathroom, you can hear the family eating next door. There was no parks or wide open spaces. Everything was dry, clogged, and loud.

Oliver wouldn't call this silence the absence of sound, but more of an immense, powerful, all-encompassing sublime. He could see mountain ranges stretching up and for miles, endless green and fog and rain. Birds would pass over head in the gray, and sometimes there would be the howl of some creature, but otherwise only the hoverport's humming broke the quiet.

"This is amazing," Oliver said finally.

When Garth didn't answer, Oliver turned to look at him.

His eyes were dead. He was just staring at the road with furrowed brows, his lips working like he was talking to himself.

"Garth? ... _Garth._ "

The other man flinched, and the hoverport jerked to the right.

When Garth looked at him, Oliver saw the slow focusing of his pupils, the sudden realization that there was another person in the vehicle with him. It was watching a lost soul come back to the ground.

"I'm sorry," Garth said, his voice rough.

"It's fine," Oliver replied. "I was just saying...this place is amazing."

Garth looked dazed. "It is?"

With a nod and a smile, Oliver leaned over and placed his hand on Garth's, turning the wheel to keep the hoverport from listing any further off the road. "Wake up, Garth," he said warmly.

A faint red tinged Garth's cheeks and he cleared his throat before turning his face back to the road. After a few minutes passed, he muttered: "Not used to making this trip with anyone."

Oliver sat back. "Yeah, I figured."

"I don't know... I just kinda, fuzz out for most of it. There's certain points I look out for. I like this one river I gotta go over, it's pretty at sunset so I try to time the trip right. Oh, and there's this family of redtails I've gotten friendly with where I set up camp."

Oliver tried to picture setting up camp alone here. "Sounds nice."

"It's alright. I get some hunting done too. You know, make the trip worth something."

"Sure."

"I could teach you how to hunt..."

Oliver looked at Garth with a teasing smile. "What if I try to shoot you?"

The poor man. His brows furrowed again and he bit his lip like he hadn't considered that possibility. But then he said, "I gotta teach you how to drive this thing soon. Anything happens to me, and you'd be trapped out here."

Oliver sobered a little in the face of Garth's concern. "Oh," was all he managed to say.

"Well, I'll teach you everything. How to hunt, how to fish. I've got a couple of gardens going, that's how I get most of my veggies. If you could take that over, well..."

"You'd have more time to mine?"

Garth seemed encouraged. "Yeah, well, more time to do anything. With the two of us, we could really get everything done."

"Okay," Oliver replied. No use in being useless, he decided.

Yet another moment. Oliver could just sense how Garth was working himself up to something. Finally, after rubbing his leg nervously, he cleared his throat again. "Mind—uh. Mind—um. Mind scooting just little, um, over here?"

His cheeks were blazing red.

Oliver's lips twitched. "Like next to you?"

"Yeah. If you want."

Sliding his ass down the bench seat, Oliver's knee knocked into Garth's, and the other man jumped. Oliver couldn't help a small laugh. There was a space between their hips, but he figured Garth would have to close that gap on his own.

"Well, um. Well..." Garth's fingers were twitching, both hands on the wheel. He bit his lip and then after several false starts, rested his arm along the back of the seat behind Oliver.

Oliver witnessed all this with growing amusement. He counted in his head how long it took Garth to work up the courage to drop that arm around his shoulders.

Seventy seconds. Just over a minute.

Another minute, and then Garth drew him close, thumb rubbing a gentle pattern against his arm. They sat like that, snug together in the cold.


	6. Chapter 6

_We have to live with our loneliness and the destiny that drives each person to the order of things._

**oOo**

Garth had fashioned his lighter hoverport from a hull left behind at an abandoned government mine. The engine came from a man Venn knew. The bed was large enough to carry a small amount of Tesac, but the cab was his pride and joy. He had outfitted the space behind the seats with a cot, gas stove, and a running sink.

The rains made camping a no-go. But a man could find some enjoyment driving out to Tetra Lake and sleeping with the hoverport doors open, just to get that glimpse of night sky as the storms pounded on the metal roof. And the chill wouldn't matter none… not if there was a sweetie pressed up against him under the blankets.

Well, anyway, aside from trips to Shagalice, Garth hadn't really done any of the things he imagined he could do with a light hoverport. Never seemed worth it.

"What was that?"

The light was dimming out on the road, and Garth switched the headlights on. Oliver was staring at him. Garth could tell. He cleared his throat. "I was, um. Wondering if you liked camping."

"Like with tents?"

Garth nodded, his eyes trained on the road as his face heated.

He heard Oliver hum in thought. "Never was much opportunity for that. I got to see the Paladasi Gardens once."

Almost letting out a low whistle, Garth made sure not to. Even being allowed to step inside the pleasure ward meant Oliver had been very privileged at some point in his life. Which, as far as Garth was concerned, meant there was a soft little princeling in his hoverport. For some reason, that made his cock react, going half-mast in his pants.

He twisted in his seat, trying to adjust himself without drawing attention. Sure, if he had been any kind of man, he would have strongly hinted that he needed a seeing-to, but just the thought of Oliver reaching over to touch Garth's cock like it was a moldy piece of bread made the problem go away anyhow. He really wished he had yakked on a bit more about this with Venn, got some ideas on how to move things forward.

"Was there a reason you asked?"

_Damn, fuck._ Garth had gone all inward with his dirty thoughts, and left the conversation hanging there… he was a fool, and Oliver probably thought he was a fool. "Yeah, well. Camping's one thing to do around here."

Oliver laughed a little, a warm breathy sort of thing. Garth almost felt it on his neck. "In this rain? That must be a sad sight."

"Well, we'd sleep in the cab." He nodded back at the living space behind them.

"Oh." Oliver had said that like he hadn't realized there was a bed back there. Or maybe it was because Garth had said  _we._ "This is clever. You put it together yourself?"

His chest puffed a little. He couldn't help it. "Yeah, put in the plumbing and tank. Been thinking about adding a john, but that would be some work."

"Speaking of which…"

Garth looked over to see Oliver looking at him with a slight blush to his freckled cheeks. "You gotta take a piss?"

Oliver nodded, exhaling his amusement. "Yeah."

He'd lose that self-consciousness quick. With the outhouse sitting twenty rainy, muddy feet from Garth's cabin, the bucket next to the boot rack would start to look really good in the middle of the night. But… if Oliver really kicked up a fuss, Garth might just have to finally install indoor plumbing so he wouldn't have to deal with all the whining and nagging. He started cataloguing what he'd need for that endeavor as he scanned the sides of the rood for places to pull out.

There was a wide chunk of cleared land, which he figured other men had stopped at, and he parked the hoverport, killing the engine. "Looks good here. We'll just set up camp."

"Oh?" Oliver had his face almost pressed against the passenger side window. "Ok."

"Something wrong?"

"No." He glanced at Garth and gave a weak smile. "I don't know why, I just thought we'd be driving straight through the night."

Was he scared about the bed? Well, Garth couldn't worry about that at the moment. "Go on and do your business—" he said gruffly, and then realized he was talking to Oliver like he was a dog. Add that to the growing list of mistakes he'd have to fix later. "Just stay in sight."

"What?" Oliver had drawn back a little, frowning.

They sure did raise them delicate in the rich wards. Garth kicked his door open while grunting, "No whining, you won't die. Go piss on a tree and get back here."

He dropped onto the ground and looked around. He had driven the hoverport far out enough that any fool sliding around on the muddy roads at night wouldn't swerve into them. He took a sniff, and everything smelled damp. He thought he heard a stream, though, which would be good to have.

He heard Oliver's door squeak open and then slam shut. Despite being brusque, Garth himself was a little trembly as he eyed the other man over the hood of the port, but Oliver had his back to him. With a low curse, Garth got to work setting up camp.

Thankfully it wasn't raining at that moment. Taking advantage of the last dregs of daylight, Garth cleared some of the mud away to reveal dry dirt, and starting setting up some rocks for a fire pit. He heard Oliver slog up to him, and said, "Go find some dry branches, but—"

"Stay in sight, yeah, I get it."

Garth gritted his teeth at Oliver's attitude. He had to keep in mind that Oliver didn't really consider himself a bride. He muttered to himself all the way back inside the hoverport, where he grabbed some matches and prepared kindling. He paused on the way out, his eye caught by the bottle of fermented nasha. After a moment of uncertainty, he grabbed it with a couple of cups.

All in all, "camp" was always a ratty card table and a creaky fold-out chair. This time, there were two chairs. He stood up, surveying the set up and then glancing around for Oliver, his heart nearly folding into himself when he couldn't immediately see him. But then there he was, arms full with knobby, half damp wood. Garth couldn't contain a chuckle.

"What?" Oliver groused. He looked ready to dump the whole load in the mud.

"Nothing, nothing." Garth picked out the usable pieces and then directed Oliver to drop the rest.

While he got the fire roaring, Oliver pulled a chair to the other side and plopped down. With the heat against his face, Garth keep his gaze down, trying not to feel the sting of rejection. How come the other man couldn't even sit with him? Hadn't he agreed to move closer in the hoverport? Was this another step back?

Garth took a long chug of the nasha and wiped at his mouth.

"How's that taste?"

"Like shit."

Oliver laughed politely.

_Goddamn rich boy._ He'd probably been drinking liquors since he was fifteen while Garth was slaving away on Monarus, getting his water stolen and having to survive on puddles.

Garth dropped the bottle on the table and sank into his own chair, arms draped lazily over the armrests as he stared at Oliver from across the fire. "You ever had nasha?"

"Can't say I have."

He had drawn his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs. Only a skinny stick like him could sit like that and look comfortable. Garth wanted to see him all stretched out, his lean muscles sliding under pale skin that was flushed with excitement. But how would that happen? How could he be excited with someone like Garth?

Taking another chug, Garth swallowed loudly. "How many men've had you?"

"Huh?" Oliver's eyebrows furrowed, and then his expression went placid. "You're really asking me that?"

The acid in his voice made Garth want to curl up and die. Instead he took another swig of the nasha, sat back in his chair, and gazed at the fire. "M'just saying… there aren't a bunch of pretty boys to choose from anymore."

"There were never a bunch of pretty boys to choose from, and I knew what I was getting into when I came to Monarus."

Garth bayed a loud, rude laugh at  _that._ "You know shit, trust me. No one knows what they're getting into with Monarus." He leaned forward. "Did you ever think in a million years, you'd lose your freedom and end up a fuck toy for  _me_?"

Oliver paled. His lips thinned. And Garth felt like a sack of shit. Looking away, Oliver said hoarsely, "Just, whatever happens, please don't hurt me."

He said that like it had been stuck in his throat for days. It probably had been—the dark thought that Garth was whisking him off to some remote cabin where he would be powerless with no survival skills, totally reliant on Garth's whims. What could Garth say? He wouldn't promise to never hit Oliver again...he couldn't be a brute  _and_ a liar. He wouldn't be a brute! He wouldn't be cruel… he might discipline, but what twelve year old boy hadn't been through that with his mama or pop anyway?

The fire cracked, and Oliver flinched.

With a sigh, Garth sat back and closed his eyes. This was a fucking disaster.

**oOo**

The bottle was empty… when did that happen?

Garth swayed a little. He remembered drinking and drinking to calm his nerves. At first he had thought maybe he would move the chair around and sit next to Oliver, and then maybe rest an arm around his shoulders under the pretense that the air had turned cold. After a backrub, maybe Oliver would calm down.

Or was it Garth who wanted to calm down…?

"It's late!" he said with a jolt. Oliver was still there, across the fire. His eyes were glittering in the light. He hadn't said anything for what felt like hours.

"I want you to know, I'm not— I'm not— I'm not—" Garth nearly fell off the chair. What he was, was an idiot. "I'm not a drunk," he finally managed to get out.

Oliver didn't say anything.

"I promise, I'm not." He scrubbed his hand down his face. "You'll see... when we get home."

Still quiet, Oliver was like a statue.

"Would you just fucking say something?" Garth snapped, standing up. Oliver's eyes tracked him like a cat.

"You probably think you're trapped with a drunk, don't you? You think I'm gonna lose it and beat you, or something." Garth was panting, his face flushed. He threw the bottle to the side and stumbled around the fire, half expecting (or was it wishing?) Oliver to just skitter away from him.

Instead he stood up to meet Garth's approach, his face set. They squared off like that, glaring at each other. Garth wiped at his mouth, ready to back down, but something in him caught. "Get into the cab," he growled.

Oliver's face flushed red like dye in water. He looked near ready to kill Garth, but instead he swung around him and trudged back to the hoverport. Garth heard the door slam shut with force.

This was it. He was gonna fuck Oliver. He took a deep breath, exhaled. Took another. It was going to work out. He'd go in there and use some smooth tricks that would diffuse all the anger, and have Oliver moaning like an angel. God, was he ready.

He stumbled over to the hoverport and pulled himself up inside. Glancing through the two chairs, he saw Oliver sitting stiffly on the cot, glaring at him. "Well?"

"Well…" Garth tripped a little over the chair as he made his to the back. He sat down next to Oliver and the bed creaked under their shared weight. "Well."

He had his hands on his knees like some nervous school boy.

"You're going to rape me now, right?"

_Ooourgh._ Never had Garth felt quite like a worthless, useless waste of a human until right then. He wanted to cry. "I'll make you feel good…"

The disbelieving scoff would have made any man's cock shrivel.

How could someone so warm, so  _right there,_ be so out of reach? All Garth had to do was shove him down on the bed, rip his pants away, spread his thighs, and fuck into him. Oliver wouldn't be able to fight Garth off, not even with him sloshed like he was. How long would the fallout from that last? But then it would be the next night, and Garth would want it again, and then the next night, the violence never stopping.

Garth slumped a little. "Yes," he muttered. "I'm going to rape you now…"

He kissed Oliver. It was a gentle little press of the lips against Oliver's cold cheek. Cold? It was cold. Garth circled an arm around those bony shoulders, started rubbing him briskly to warm him up. If Oliver was repulsed by this touch, it was impossible to tell. His head had dropped forward, his longish hair draping around his eyes. All Garth could see was the tight press of his lips. But then he noticed the way Oliver was surreptitiously trying to cover his front with his hands. Without thinking, Garth grabbed a wrist, pulling it away to reveal the tight strain at Oliver's crotch.

"You're hard…" he breathed wonderously.

"No." Oliver sounded wounded. "No…"

_No._ Ok… No. He wasn't hard. Garth let him cover his front again, and went back to rubbing his shoulders. And into Oliver's ears, he whispered, "I'm hard."

"Surprising, considering how much booze you downed."

Garth stopped moving.

"I mean…"

"No." Garth kissed him on the cheek again, and Oliver's eyes widened. For some...reason, Garth had felt a surge of warmth at that flash of dry humor, at the break in Oliver's exterior. "You meant what you meant," he said, and then added, "and I'm not a drunk usually."

Oliver actually smiled. It was the sweetest thing, tentative and kind. He touched the tip of his nose for a moment, and then very carefully rested his hand on Garth's knee. "I don't really think that badly of you, Garth. I've never been a brave man, and I couldn't say for sure how I'd handle this situation if I was in your place."

It took Garth a moment to parse that. "If you had a bride?"

"If I had a man who claimed he wasn't a bride…and there was no proof of it."

Of course, Oliver had been raised rich, so the idea of being owned had never crossed his mind the same way it did Garth's. He'd probably been waited on hand and foot by indentured servants as a kid. "So… what are you telling me?"

"I'm telling you—" Oliver's hand slid up his thigh, sending a jolt up Garth's spine. No one had touched him there for months "—that I'm willing to rub one off for you tonight, and if you're amenable to that, I won't consider myself forced."

Garth was very  _amenable_. Sure, he felt a dull slight disappointment at not being able to sink his cock into Oliver's ass, but he'd get over it. They had all the time in the fucking world, and if Oliver was willing to give him a handy without being sour about it… Garth would be thrilled.

He widened his legs, dropping back a bit on his elbows as he stared with focus on his crotch. He heard Oliver chuckle, but didn't have time to feel embarrassed because artful fingers were suddenly dancing up the seam of his pants, fiddling with the zipper, tugging it down, and then carefully drawing out his cock.

"Oh…" he rumbled.

Oliver shifted a little, turning on his hip towards Garth to get better access. He leaned down, and dribbled a long strand of spit right on the head of Garth's cock! Garth dropped his head back, shaking. He had nearly shot his load just from that.

With a lazy slowness, Oliver started jacking him, thumb sliding over his tip with each upswing. He'd squeeze at the base and then drag a feather-light touch up the prominent vein under Garth's skin. He seemed mighty interested in Garth's foreskin. He kept chewing his lip, eyes trained down.

"Oliver—"

Garth was not prepared for Oliver suddenly bending down and swallowing the whole length of his cock. With one loud slurp, he came up again and kept jacking.

"Holy shit!" Garth breathed. Oliver caught his eye and grinned.

_Fuck_ pushing shit. If this was Oliver going at his own pace, and then Garth was along for the ride. He hoped that one day he'd get to touch too, but for now… this was just fine. "So good," he said while panting, just to make sure Oliver knew it too. That he knew there were sparks shooting down to Garth's toes, that there was a heat curling his belly, a building up that needed release.

This man was  _his._ His fingers, his smile, that hair half hanging over his eyes. He would lie in bed with Garth in the mornings and beg him to stay one more minute, to hold off from work so they could huddle together in the winter chill. He would gladly roll on to his belly and lift his ass for Garth's pleasure, and together they would moan and grunt and fuck. Just like this.

"Oh, fuck, Oliver."

He wasn't the only one affected. Oliver kept licking his lips like he wanted to pull that swallowing stunt again. Instead he suddenly lurched forward, straddling Garth's hips. Thankfully Garth thought fast enough through the haze of alcohol to grab his waist and steady him. He was so focused on tugging down his own pants and then pressing his own thick cock length to length with Garth's.

He closed his hand tight around both of them.

Both men swore at the same time.

Even though he was jacking, really Oliver was rutting forward like he couldn't stop himself. Each time sent a jolt of electricity all throughout Garth's veins.

With a roar of pure near, he lifted Oliver up and slammed him down on the cot, the thing was probably gonna collapse. Neither of them cared. Instead of shying away, Oliver wrapped his legs around Garth's body and his arms around his neck. Garth was the one slamming upwards, their cocks sliding along each other, pressed between their bellies.

Oliver came first, crying out with his eyes closed. His jizz shot between them, and was quickly mixed with Garth's, who bit his lip with a grunt.

After a moment to breathe, he pushed up on his elbows. Oliver's eyes were glassy, his entire body loose.

The rain was pounding outside. And with that thought, Garth then felt his sweat cooling on his skin, and realized how uncomfortable it was to lie there with his pants half off. He scrambled up quickly, letting the pants fall and grabbed a dry towel before turning back to Oliver.

"Come on," he said, and dragged Oliver's pants off his legs.

He was shocked a second time that night when Oliver suddenly yelped and scuttled away from him, back pressing against the side of the cab.

By then, Garth had sobered some. He tossed Oliver's pants to the side. "No acting like that now, or you'll get a smack to the heiny."

"Garth!"

He eyed Oliver. "I agreed to your terms, didn't? I ain't gonna fuck you, I just want do the gentlemanly thing and wipe you down."

Oliver visibly relaxed. "Oh."

Sitting down, Garth grabbed Oliver by the ankle and tugged him forward before he could protest. The shirt came off, and then he had a naked, disheveled man in his bed. He started roughly wiping Oliver down, getting under his armpits as he finally found his voice and said, "I can do that!"

Garth ignored him, twisting him around to get his back. "We're both gonna smell rank in the morning." There may have been a pleased note to his voice. Somehow, that exchange between the two of them had solidified a new feeling in Garth, a feeling of confidence.

"Right, all done." He gave Oliver a quick slap on the asscheek and the man yelped.

While Garth cleaned himself up, Oliver seemed to have a little pout as sat all curled up with his back against the wall again. But that was fine. Pouting was different than fear or anger. Pouting held a certain amount of trust that Garth wouldn't treat him cruelly for doing so. Pouting was an opening for soothing and coaxing.

Garth slid a knee onto the bed, and held his hand out to slide it under Oliver's chin. The other man turned from him just so, and Garth gently directed his attention back so that their eyes met. "You didn't like that tiny little smack?"

"No I did  _not._ "

"I'm sorry."

"No you're not."

Garth moved closer, caging Oliver against the wall. "I really am." He bent his head and started placing kisses along the side of Oliver's throat.

Oliver stretched out for him like a dog getting his special spot scratched, somehow ending up under Garth as they laid on the bed lengthwise. "You'll do it again," he muttered.

_Probably._ With the attitude Garth was starting to see, Oliver would be getting all kinds of smacks on the ass. But not tonight. "No, I won't, I promise."

He pulled the blanket up over the two of them, his nerves thrumming again, but not from arousal this time. Every night at home he'd dreamt of this, of a man curled up against him, of hearing those steady breaths and feeling a strong heartbeat against his palm. Naked skin against naked skin, a grunt of annoyance as someone took up too much space. It was finally real.

Garth wasn't alone.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please read! I changed a couple of things, most importantly that the distance between properties is now like 4-5 hours distance rather than days.

 

 

 

 

_It's no fun being lonely._

**oOo**

"Last night… I really liked that."

They had been on the road for hours, and this was the first time Garth had said something since they set out. Oliver had wondered what all the silence was about, but figured he wouldn't push for conversation—he wanted some time to himself to think anyway, so he had sat and watched the expansive landscape of Monarus rush by his window as he rehashed his choices from the night before.

But now Garth, with his eyes still trained on the road and his hands gripping the wheel, seemed ready to talk. "Did… did you?"

Oliver was not a schemer. He didn't know which way was right for handling Garth, or if "handling" was even the right term to use at all. He knew he didn't want this whole mess to just fade into complacent apathy, with him submitting to fate and relinquishing any hope that the justice clerk would fix what happened. But he also didn't think lying in any form would help.

"Look," Garth cut over his thoughts. "I mean—"

"I had fun," Oliver said softly.

There was obvious relief written all over Garth's face, his shoulders relaxing. "We're gonna hit the edge of my land soon, and the cabin's not much further beyond that. I don't know what kinda place you were used to back home, but I think I've got a pretty nice deal going out here. I think you'll like it." He rubbed at his nose, sniffing. "Better than those transport ships, anyhow."

"How close to Jamal's?"

"Pretty damn close, actually. We're both on the borders… I'd say maybe three hours by hoverport if the weather's good."

"So I could drive out to see Andrew?"

In the short time Oliver had known Garth, he was starting to develop a sense of the man's expressions. And currently he was seeing that little furrow of the eyebrow that meant Oliver had said something Garth disagreed with but was too gun-shy to say so.

But then Oliver learned a new one: determination.

"No… no. I think it's best I drive you out if and when we do a get-together. Far as I know, Jamal wants a little time with his bride alone so they can get acquainted."

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind a short drop in—"

"Oliver. Don't…" Garth's jaw had set. "Don't back-talk me."

Embarrassed or something, Oliver crossed his arms over his chest and stared pointedly out his window as he tried to parse what had just happened.

"You gonna ignore me now?"

Even if he wanted to speak, Oliver found himself frozen and unable to do so. The more his thoughts raced, the more humiliated he suddenly felt. Or maybe it was that he had been completely reminded of what the dynamic between them was and any camaraderie he felt with Garth was squashed.

"Listen," Garth said. "I know how I've been acting confusing. So. I'm just gonna say it clear: we both know I want you to like me, Ollie, that's what I want more than most anything. But I won't be henpecked. You're gonna follow my rules, you're gonna be my…bride, I mean. What I'm saying is… if the law need's to be laid down, I'll do it."

He took the time to look into Oliver's eyes as he finished his statement.

_What the hell does that mean,_ Oliver asked himself pointlessly. He knew what Garth was getting at all too well. He just couldn't imagine Garth getting violent, not even because he didn't want to, but because the shy man just didn't seem like he had it in him. But once again Oliver thought about how there had to be more beneath the surface. Not every man on Monarus was rich enough for a bride. Garth was a success.

Sitting back, Oliver cocked an eyebrow. "Ollie?"

He saw the light tint of red at Garth's cheeks. "Slipped out…"

"I like it. My mom called me that." And then before Garth started to think things were fine between them: "So let me get this straight. You want me to accept this whole bride thing, but you're not willing to let me drive out and visit my friend sometimes."

"It ain't about the driving. It's about you listening to what I say and accepting it without trying to negotiate."

"A relationship is negotiation, Garth."

"That—" Garth's face had gone more red, but clearly from frustration this time. "Not this one. Not this relationship." He seemed to savor that word. "You talk back, you… you get a turn over my knee."

Oliver nearly threw his hands up. "Do you hear yourself? I'm not a child! We can come to agreements rationally."

"Can you accept what I say the first go around without giving me lip?"

"Lip…" Oliver scoffed, turning to look out the window again as he fought tears.

"I get where you're coming from. I wouldn't treat any other grown man this way. But the barest truth… this ain't gonna be like any other thing between adults. I  _own_ you."

Oliver was shaking from how mad he was.

"I own you," Garth repeated. "And you ain't gonna accept that right off, are you?"

"No," Oliver muttered.

"No. So…"

"But you don't  _have_ to treat me like that. You'll choose to."

Garth was rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah," he said. "Yes. I'll choose to. Instead of letting you hurtle off in the hoverport, I'll expect you to obey me and stay home. You may be a grown man, but you're a child on Monarus. You won't know your ass from your face here, that'll be my responsibility."

Knowing when he'd lost an argument, Oliver's sense of injustice meant he could only double down. "So I'll be marooned in your god awful cabin hours on end with no one to talk to—"

Garth slammed his fist on the wheel, shouting, "For fuck's sake!"

He swerved the hoverport to the side and Oliver was close to scrambling out the door when he paused. Garth had slid his hands over his face and seemed to be pacing his breathing. And then he dropped his head back and sighed. "You would of been dead meat in the mines. What were you thinking coming out here? What the hell were you thinking? I oughta take the strap to you just for that."

Maybe it was time for Oliver to reevaluate what he thought Garth was capable of. Just hearing the word  _strap_ come out of the other man's mouth was chilling. "I came here for the same reason any man—"

"No, not any man. Most of us were convicts. We were forced here, forced to work double the time you soft Class B's do."

"Yes, fine. But…" Oliver lost his thread in the conversation.

Garth had called him a Class B, and not a bride.

Was that a mistake? A slip of the tongue during a heated argument? Or did Garth believe Oliver's version of what happened but chose to go with what the disbursement agency said so that he could keep a bride? In a matter of seconds, Oliver's handle on what was happening shifted. He felt lost again, but realized he needed to say something. "…Fine. You're right. I don't know anything about this place."

Garth eyed him for a moment, maybe to gauge how sincere Oliver was in his surrender, and when he seemed satisfied, he turned the hoverport back on and turned it out onto the road.

**oOo**

There were no more words spoken for at least an hour. He didn't even glance at Oliver once until they passed a turnoff and Garth pointed across Oliver's chest. "That's Jamal's place. Once things have…settled a bit, I'll take you over for a visit."

"Thank you," Oliver replied quietly.

Despite his best efforts to keep a dour mood, he became more and more fascinated as they approached what was obviously Garth's home. The road was rougher than the main one, but cleared well enough, and suddenly they were spat out of the forest into a clearing where a cabin and several out buildings stood.

The cabin was not how Oliver imagined (toy-like logs crisscrossing over each other). There were actual flat panels and glass windows with shutters, the roof steepled into a second floor or attic. There was a porch with a swing bench and a row of potted plants kept safe under the overhang, and a what looked like a well-designed system of gutters funnelling the rainwater down to a ground well.

"Took me a month to finish the foundation," Garth said. "You have to be real careful with the ground being so soaked out here." He pulled the hoverport up along what Oliver realized must be the large hauler. He couldn't fathom one man being able to mine enough tesac rock to fill that thing.

Garth shut the engine off and then dropped a hand on Oliver's knee. "I'll unload in the morning. Let's just get in and get some grub." There was no shy withdrawal. He just gave a mild squeeze and then turned to get out through his door. Oliver stared after his back, totally unnerved by how quickly the other man was getting over his hangups. The shyness never made sense anyway, what with Garth looking like such a solidly built, rough man who could obviously take what he wanted, but it had put Oliver at ease.

He got out, his boots sinking a little into the mud. The air was crisp, and he hugged himself as he came around the front of the hoverport to join Garth.

Instinctively perhaps, the first thing he did was give the area a quick scan. There were several outlets into the woods that looked like they were used as roads. He wondered where they led, which ones were directed towards the mines. He wondered which way he could run and reach somewhere out of Garth's grasp.

"Look, if you run, just stay put once you get tired." Oliver's eyes snapped to Garth's resigned face, and the man nodded off towards one of the roads. "Those are the mines, don't go that way. You'd be liable to step on some explosives. And like I said, find someplace visible enough and wait. It'll be easier for me to find you that way."

His matter-of-fact tone was irritating. "If I ran, I wouldn't make some rookie mistake. I'd stay gone."

Garth just looked even more tired at that. "You'd get lost, you'd slip and hurt yourself. You'd starve, and then the animals would get you if you didn't die from the wet and cold first. Now, they put that little chip inside you, but I can't trust the thing for beans."

Oliver glared at him, fighting to control the hopelessness welling up inside. Hating the idea of Garth seeing him vulnerable, he shoved the man aside and headed for the cabin. Immature thoughts—I  _will_ run away, I'll show him!—crossed his mind even as he knew how stupid doing something like that was. He'd just end up humiliating himself, returning to Garth's side like a dog with his tail between his legs. He didn't know one thing about surviving out in the wilderness.

He was just about at the porch when a hand on his arm held him back. "I'd understand running. It'd piss me off like no other, but don't be afraid of me if you run. Don't be afraid of coming back, cause I won't lose control, I promise you that." Tentatively, Garth pulled him around and slid that warm palm up Oliver's arm, squeezing his shoulder. "So don't hide, don't make it harder for me to find you."

"Fine," Oliver conceded. But perhaps to be petty, he brushed Garth's touch aside and loped up the stairs of the porch to get away from him.

Hanging from a nail on the wood door was a scrap of paper with cut out letters spelling 'welcum home garths bryd' Oliver stared at it, and then looked at Garth who had stepped up beside him.

"Uh, well…" Garth said, his cheeks red again. "Didn't have much time to put anything together. Pretty much heard about the shipment and took off."

"You didn't know you'd get one."

"Yeah." His voice was a little hollow. "But, you know. There was a chance."

Oliver chose not to mention the odd spelling. He could put two and two together, knowing Garth had been on Monarus since he was a child. Doubtful that there was any kind of primary education established for minors.

"It's nice," Oliver said, just about to lift the paper from the nail when, without warning, Garth suddenly shoved the door open and strode inside.

"What's going on?" Oliver asked, watching the other man spin around and around, looking everywhere inside.

"The latch was broken. Fucking raiders," Garth replied, going back to Oliver and ushering him quickly inside the cabin before closing the door. "Gone now. But they had the fucking balls to come into my home…" He seemed to think of something, the color draining from his face as he looked hard at Oliver, who felt uncomfortable under the sudden focused gaze. "I won't let them touch you," was all Garth said.

Whatever he was going to say next was interrupted by a chirp from somewhere in the room. Garth clenched his jaw and then said, "that's the comm. I must have some messages. Uh, look around, get a feel for the place. The bedroom's upstairs."

Oliver nodded and watched him cross the room, taking note of where the comm was. The cabin itself was open layout, as far as the first floor went and not too big. There was a kitchen area (the comm placed above a counter), and living room with a couch and wood-burning furnace. While Garth listened intently to the messages, Oliver did what he suggested and headed upstairs which opened directly into a bedroom.

The bed frame had been constructed out of narrow logs with posts at each corner, their marks and knots still etched into the bark. But it was charming. What looked like a hand-sewn quilt was thrown over the whole of it, the checkered squares seducing Oliver with their soft colors. He crawled up onto the feather-stuffed mattress, luxuriating in the way his palms and knees sunk down. Stretching out, clutching a pillow to his face, he sighed. This was the largest bed he'd ever been on, even when he was living with his family.

The rain pounding on what sounded like a tin-covered roof plus the coziness of the room had him drifting. Someone gently shook his ankle. "Mind getting your shoes off?"

Oliver blinked, and then blearily looked around. Garth was standing over him. "Sorry…" he mumbled, attempting to kick them off and then wincing when all he managed to do was knock mud on the ground.

Garth just laughed a little and went about untying Oliver's boot. "You can clean that up in the morning. Too tired for food?" As he slid the shoe off, his knuckles grazed across Oliver's skin.

For a moment, letting everything drop until morning felt overwhelmingly tempting. But Oliver heaved a sigh and sat up. "No. But more importantly...what was that about? Raiders broke in?"

Garth's entire body stiffened. "Looks like it. They hit most of the guys who went to Shagalice for the brides." He seemed to have some internal debate, staring at Oliver, and then sat down next to him. "My guess… they were the miners who didn't make it on the list, not raiders. You know, just some assholes who couldn't deal with losing out."

"Is Andrew okay? They left before us."

Garth nodded and then looked Oliver sideways. "You, uh, really got along well with that guy, huh?"

"I think so...honestly, he might have just found me a little annoying."

"Oh."

It took Oliver a second to realize Garth had meant something more intimate than sitting in the smelly dark of a transport ship playing card games. But then he didn't see the point in answering the real question. His relationship with Andrew didn't matter, and neither did Garth's feelings, frankly.

"Well…anyway." Garth stood up, his masculine form suddenly intimidating in the small confines of the bedroom. "I talked to Jamal and he said he wouldn't mind a visit in a couple of days. We can take you boys fishing, he's got a nice-sized lake on his property."

Oliver reminded himself that Garth was not going to use his strength against him. He wasn't going to rape Oliver. That's not what he wanted. "Thank you," Oliver said, trying to inject some sincerity into his words. "I've never been. Fishing, I mean."

"It's not too bad, kinda quiet…" Garth shifted on his feet, crossing his arms. "So, food?"

"Uh, yeah." Oliver stood up too quickly and bumped right into Garth. They stared at each other like that for a moment, and then Garth got a certain look in his eyes that made Oliver's heart thud against his chest.

"Wouldn't mind holding your hand," Garth rumbled.

"Oh…uh." Oliver looked at his own hand like he hadn't realized he had one.

Garth took it with a sudden jerk which Oliver was about to protest when he felt how clammy the other man's palm was. "Sorry," Garth said.

Oliver gave him a tepid smile. Planets away from home, stripped of his freedom, and given away as a bride to a man living the life Oliver had been promised, and all this really felt like was a teenager's first date.

**oOo**

Garth set a bowl of soup down in front of Oliver and then took the chair across the table. "So, my mornings start early. I wake up at dawn and try to hit the mines before the rains get heavy. I'll try not to be too loud, but I tend to stumble around a bit making coffee and what not."

"Okay," Oliver replied. He took a sip of soup, his gaze flicking over to the comm.

"On the other hand, evenings don't stretch out too late. Should be back before dinner time."

"That I cook for?"

Garth was silent long enough to for Oliver to look at him. He was stroking his stubble. "Well, I won't say no to that…"

"I like to cook, actually."

Garth looked happy, well chuffed more like. He obviously tried to hide behind a long chug of his drink. "We have all those stories and shows I bought on the tabview, I'll bring it in before I take off tomorrow. You probably won't have much to do for awhile…not until I can make a list of chores."

Oliver contemplated sitting around for hours every day reading. It might be nice for awhile, but he knew himself and he knew he'd get antsy. "What if I came with you to the mines?"

"I'm not…" Garth rubbed at his nose and then tapped his finger down on the table. "I won't teach you how to mine, Ollie."

There was a distinct finality to his voice. Once again, that irritation itched under Oliver's skin. "So I'm always reliant on you?" he snapped.

"Yes." Garth's gaze was steady. "Now stop turning the mood sour. You ain't gonna finagle this way and that until I let you do what you want. I know  _you_  know how this works."

"If we both mined though, wouldn't that mean more income?"

Garth's fingers curled into a fist on the table, his expression turning stony. After a moment, he stood up.

"Garth…"

He came around the table and Oliver rose in a flash, nearly tripping over the chair legs as he tried to back away. But Garth grabbed his arm so tight that Oliver cried out.

His cheek met the table, bowls of soup upended. Garth had twisted his arm behind his back, and was holding him there firmly. "Garth… Garth…" Oliver started to whimper.

A steady hand searched under his front and undid his belt buckle. With the belt loosened, his pants drooped down his waist, and he trembled as the only thing covering his ass now was a thin layer of cotton. Of all things, he felt stirrings, his cock twitching.

"What did I tell you?" Any emotion in Garth's voice was masked.

"I don't know… I don't know…" Oliver had to bite his lip to keep any more incoherent cries out. He'd never been hit before in his life. "God, I don't want to be here!"

The hold on his arm went slack all of a sudden before tightening again.

"You're damn cowardly, aren't you?" Garth muttered.

"Yes!" Oliver wiped at his dripping nose. His knees were shaking and everything felt so awkward and horrible. He was too tall to be bent over a table.

"Why back talk, then? What'll that get you? If you're worried about your damn pride—" And with that, the first slap landed on his ass and Oliver gasped. It only stung a little, but it was shocking. "—Then let that go. Or make yourself feel better knowing I need you more than you fucking need me."

He smacked Oliver again, and again it was tolerable. Oliver realized being spanked over his underwear was never going to be torture, not with these singular stinging swats. What it was… was a demonstration. He was being forced to hold this docile position while Garth demonstrated his authority.

"Truth is," Garth continued, "you don't even want to know what life would be like in the government mines. You'd be torn apart. I want you to be grateful for this, I want you to realize how easy life is gonna be from here on out."

Another slap, and Oliver winced. He supposed this illiterate jackass didn't even get the irony of lecturing about an easy life while spanking someone. "You can't say that for sure," he spat, his voice shaking uncontrollably as he tried to get each word out. "It wasn't your choice to make anyway! I didn't ask for your fucking opinion on what I can handle."

Suddenly he was jerked upright and spun around to face Garth, who gripped his arms painfully tight. "You spoiled Class B princess. I've  _seen_ what happens."

Oliver found himself brought up short from the dark promise in Garth's voice. There was anger there that had nothing to do with Oliver.

"I get it, Garth," he said, trying to pull away a little.

He was let go. He couldn't look at Garth as he tugged his pants back up and did the buckle. "I don't want to sleep with you tonight."

"That's fine." Once again, Garth was keeping whatever he was feeling under the surface. "You take the bed."

Oliver ran away up the stairs like a kid, wanting to slam a door but there weren't any. He burrowed under the quilt, rolling back and forth and making a mess of it. He pushed his hands under his ass, clutching his cheeks and bit his lip, knowing that if Garth had kept going, he would have sprung a boner. What he didn't know was if that was just a physical reaction to fear or he if was starting to feel hot at the idea of being under someone's thumb.

And also—more importantly—he now knew for sure that Garth believed him about his class designation.

And that the other man didn't give a single shit about it.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Garth sat under the meek lamp light, a glass clutched in his hand.

He'd hit Oliver.  _Discipline,_ yeah. But he'd wanted to keep his hands for loving, touching, exploring—not pain. And not humiliation.

"Fuck." He pinched the bridge of his nose.

Why was it so hard to remember that Oliver hadn't been prepared for this role? Couldn't Garth be patient? He'd already waited years to have someone, and now he was going to fuck it up by being an intolerable brute. And what could he do with a beaten, empty man? A shamed man? A man whose glowing curiosity and warm self was crushed by Garth's temper?

That's not what Garth had wanted at all. He had the land, he had the house, he had the money. He wanted to spoil, to seduce, to protect and cherish the man he brought into his home; his bride—Oliver.

Outside, an owl hooted.

Garth looked up at the window blearily, but only saw his own reflection surrounded by dark. Upstairs, Oliver slept. Or maybe he was as wide awake as Garth, thinking about what the next day held, and afraid that he'd be hit again.

" _Fuck_." Garth sat back, unclenching his hand from his glass.

A smarter man would know what to do. And a man with conviction wouldn't spend the whole night regretting a couple of smacks to the ass. Oliver wasn't a child, he'd live. He might have even learned a thing or two.

Garth shook his head. Things were going into the shitter.

He got up—well, fuck, he stumbled. He really needed to slow down on the drinking. But he made it to the comm and even managed to call up Jamal with his useless hands. The screen just showed static for awhile, and he thought maybe the lines had went out in the storm, but then his neighbor's face popped up.

"You know it's late, right?"

Garth nodded. He didn't say anything.

Jamal sighed. "Got enough problems of my own, Garth. Call up that bonehead kid you're so fond of instead."

Bracing a hand on the wall, Garth leaned close to the comm, his eyebrows furrowing. "Things ain't going well with Andrew?" The guy had seemed a little high-maintance…but willing to explain what he wanted.

"Things are fine." Jamal's tone was flat. There was even a tight, angry flash to his expression.

"Where is he?"

"Asleep."

"Mine too…"

Jamal snorted. "You sure he didn't run? I cuffed Andrew to the bed."

There was a sudden clank behind Garth, and he swung around to see Oliver standing in the living room, one hand extended out towards the front door. He'd knocked over a bucket Garth kept for taking out the sink water.

Not a whole lot went through Garth's head—just  _Oliver. Door._

Getting halfway across the cabin was a blur, but then he was towering over a whimpering Oliver, hands clamped around his biceps.

"—athroom, Garth! I needed to piss!"

_Breathe. Breathe. He's not running._ Slowly, Garth came back to himself. When he really looked at Oliver, he could see the exageratted effort his bride made to prove he wasn't going anywhere: all he was wearing was one of Garth's long coats and a pair of tattered boots; the epitome of a mid-night piss run.

"You shoulda said something," Garth rumbled, loosening his grip but not letting go.

Oliver nodded quickly. "You were talking… I thought I'd just, but yes. You're right, I should have said something." The coat had fallen open, revealing an lithe expanse of chilled, pale skin that stretched over taut muscles. He had a pair of Garth's underwear on.

A strong urge to clutch him tight nearly overpowered Garth, but he managed to back away. "Go on, then," he muttered. "It's a straight path to the outhouse, just keep on the stones."

Oliver nodded again and quickly darted outside.

Across the room, Jamal chuckled. "Poor little rabbit."

Garth went back to the comm, pulling up a chair to sit beside it. "See? I can't do nothing but scare him."

"You're a good man, Garth. The best kind around here. Just wait for him to settle."

Garth looked at the screen. "What about you? You gonna lock your bride up for the rest of his life?"

"Only at night." Jamal's pitch had lowered playfully. But then he sobered. "Fool me once, and all that. I can see when I have a player on my hands. He thinks he's gonna butter me up and get me all soft—" He chuckled again, but this time it had a bitter tinge. "Like hell. That boy is gonna learn how to be good and faithful."

Garth was drunk, no doubt about that. But even so, he didn't think he heard an ounce of meanness in Jamal's words. "You being good to him?"

"Yeah."

They looked at each other, coming to some kind of shared understanding. Garth felt relieved knowing someone was out there ready to call him out if he got too cruel. That made him think he should probably check up on Dan about his bride.

After a few more minutes of discussion about weather, he and Jamal finally hung up. And then it was a matter of watching the door, waiting for Oliver to come in and counting down to the moment when Garth would just go out there and collect him.

Thankfully, the front door opened and a sopping Oliver came through. "Gods!" he said, "It's pissing out there!"

Garth laughed, a warmth spreading through his chest. "It's like that all the fucking time."

Kicking the boots off at the door, Oliver shucked the coat too. He seemed lost for a sec, and then grabbed a ratty blanket from the couch and wrapped it around his shoulders.

"Here!" Garth exclaimed, switching the gas stove on. "Come warm up."

Oliver joined him, and held his palms out towards the flame. "They told us it'd rain—so fair warning, I guess! Assholes."

"When I was sent here," Garth replied, "They didn't know much about the place, right? They only had a few communications from the bastards who set up shop, but no real understanin'. So, you know what they did? They built under-fucking-ground shelters!"

Oliver dropped his head back and let out a barking laugh. "Of course they did, of course they did." His skin was looking less pebbly as he warmed up next to the stove. But Garth could still see his pert little nipples all wrinkled into themselves. He wanted to pinch them out.

"You thinking dirty thoughts, Garth?"

He nearly jumped, his gaze meeting Oliver's knowing eyes. His cheeks heated. "Sorry," was all he was able to mutter.

Oliver stood a little straighter, crossing his arms over his chest. "What did Jamal mean, with the cuffs? He locked Andrew up?"

Garth slumped a little.  _So he heard that._ "The thing about Jamal…he's been burned before. He's just being careful."

"That's not an excuse."

Garth was about to keep bending over backwards to appease Oliver, but he was sick of it. He stood up, face to face with his bride. "He doesn't need any  _excuse._ He did what he thought was right to keep Andrew in line. That's good enough reason if there ever was one."

Whatever friendliness Oliver had on his face was gone. "Hardly," he spat out. And then he spun around and marched back to the stairs, disappearing up to Garth's room.

**oOo**

Garth slept on the couch. Or, at least he tried. Around five in the morning, he got up and made a pot of joe.

He had to go mining, that was unavoidable. Enough days had been lost. The problem was...leaving Oliver alone. Garth thought about locking him in the hoverport, but that didn't sit right at all. Confining him to the cabin would be impossible. And Garth wouldn't even fucking consider tying him up, that would be a disaster in so many ways.

He couldn't just leave Oliver alone and hopeless. Could he take him to the mines?

The comm beeped, pulling Garth from his thoughts. The only people who would call him at this time were nearby miners, and that didn't bode well—the news could be anything from the weather turning bad to raiders passing through.

It was Jamal's face that popped up on the screen. He was pulling a jacket on. "Garth, I'm heading out to my southern mines, they border your land. I was thinking you could bring Oliver along and we'd set our boys up together at the lake for today."

Garth moved a little closer to the comm. "I dunno about leaving them on their own…"

"I gave Andrew the talk. He's smart, he knows it's a death sentence to run off, and he'll keep your boy from leaving too."

Letting Oliver spend the day with Andrew might get Garth out of the dog house. But Garth still couldn't stop uneasy feeling from seeping in. "Put the two of them together though, what if they cook something up?"

Jamal had been tying his boot lace, but at Garth's words he stopped and looked up. "What if they do? If you ask me, the sooner one of 'em runs, the sooner they learn how stupid it is. We reel them back in and they never try it again."

Maybe he saw something in Garth's expression because he sighed and waved his hand. "Let's do something nice for them. They'll be happy with this."

That was true, Garth figured. Oliver would really like seeing Andrew so soon. "Okay. Meet at the lake? South side, three hours?"

"Yep." And with that, Jamal's image blinked out.

Garth felt a little relieved having a set plan. It made going back upstairs and shaking Oliver's shoulder until he woke easier.

Oliver groaned and dropped an arm over his eyes.

"Hey," Garth said softly. "You get up now, and you get to see your friend."

He was afforded with an actual side-eyed glance at that. "Who?"

"Andrew."

Oliver sat up quickly. Their foreheads nearly bumped. "You serious?"

"Only if we're out on time."

It sure was something watching a half-naked Oliver leap out of bed and rush around picking discarded clothes up from the floor. He put on each piece in a rush, missing buttons and getting his shirt inside out. His hair was a tangled mess. Garth wanted to touch it. Instead he went to his closet and pulled out a thick coat. "We're gonna set you up at the lake, wanna a fishing pole?"

"Um, sure."

Garth had wanted to be the one to teach Oliver how to fish, but he could let that go. Plus there were plenty of other things he'd have to teach Oliver.

He got his coat on, and turned to see Oliver looking in the mirror above the dresser and combing his hair with his fingers.

It would have been nice to sleep next to him. Oliver seemed like he'd keep close at night, and Garth wouldn't have minded that. "Were you cold last night?"

"It was fine."

Garth tried to think of something else to say. But he couldn't and finally Oliver turned to him with a sigh. "So?" he said crisply, "we're going?"

**oOo**

Garth was stuck in his head. They had been on the road for an hour, and he'd spent the whole time wondering whether he'd really locked the house up tight. He'd like to come back with everything untouched so Oliver could see that things really weren't so dangerous.

"Are you ignoring me?"

The words were said like a sharp jab. But when he looked over, all he saw was the back of Oliver's head.

Garth answered quickly, "No, I—thought. Well, thought you didn't want to talk to me."

"Oh."

"I'd  _never_ not talk to you, Ollie."

That got a little laugh. "Well don't be too sure about that. You don't even know me." Oliver sighed and then dropped back against his seat, smiling at the windshield. "Well, okay. I thought you were like waiting me out or something."

"No, I just know you're mad at me."

"Well, you did hit me, Garth."

That was true, so Garth didn't argue. "Had to get my point across."

"And what point was that?"

Garth frowned. He knew should at least have an answer that made some kinda sense ready if he was gonna go around slapping Oliver's butt. He tried to parse through what he was feeling the night before, and why he had done what he did. Finally he sniffed, and gripped the wheel. "I can't have you arguing with me over any ol' thing you don't like. If I tell you something—I mean, if I make a point of it—you  _have_  to listen to me, Ollie. It could me, you know, the difference between life or death or something."

"So, you're saying you'll  _always_ know better than me."

"No—"

"You've what, been in the mines since you were ten? You can't even spell."

Garth hit the hoverport's breaks so quickly, the damn thing nearly flew off the road. It came to a stop, and Garth slammed his fist on the wheel. "Stop and breath, stop and breath," he muttered to himself, counting each finger on his hands down to the little ones. This was Oliver—not just a man from the mines, or a Class B worker, or any other guy whose skull Garth would have slammed against the dashboard. It was  _Oliver,_ the man Garth wanted to build up a life with.

It took him a moment to recognize the scrabbling sound he was hearing as Oliver trying to get the passenger side door open. "Ain't gonna work," Garth muttered. "I locked it."

They sat in silence for awhile as rain pounded on the roof. Oliver had managed to squish himself as far away from Garth as possible, with his knees drawn up to his chest and his sad eyes looking out the other way. He had no right being the sad one here; he had said insulting stuff to Garth and clearly thought  _that_  way about Garth.

"I'm not some idiot," Garth said finally. His voice was rough. "I know you have rich boy schooling, but I know how to survive weeks out here with nothing but a knife, I know how to make money, and I know how to mine."

Oliver was being stubborn or something. He just wouldn't look at Garth.

So Garth cupped the back of his neck. "You come over here and give me a kiss."

Oliver looked at him then, eyebrows furrowed. His jaw was set, but there was something in his eyes that said he just needed one more push to get over his pride.

"You don't think I'm stupid," Garth said. "I know it. So come over here and sit on my lap. We'll make up that way."

Those sweet lips quirked just a little bit. "I thought it was a kiss?"

"You took too long."

Oliver exhaled a laugh as he shook his head. "Fine," he said, and to Garth's surprise, he actually did scoot over and sit his butt right down on Garth's lap. He had to stretch his long legs back out over the seat to fit, but that way he could wrap his arm around Garth's neck and rest his whole side against Garth's chest.

"I feel silly," Oliver said.

Garth was out of words, so all he could do was grunt his disagreement. There was nothing silly about this—Oliver was his bride and belonged to him, and now Garth could slowly rub his thighs and feel the weight of him.

"I really don't think you're stupid."

Oliver had hid his face against Garth's neck, but Garth decided to allow that because there were things being spoken between them and also they were touching, so no point in bringing up bad feelings right then.

"In fact," Oliver continued, "I think you must be quite impressive to have done so well for yourself."

It sure was something to hear that from his bride. Garth happily stroked his palms all over Oliver, wishing they could be back at the cabin for some intimate times. "I'm rich, you know. Well, compared to most. I can provide for you. I'll take care of you, Ollie—you're whole life, I'll take care of you."

Oliver looked at him, but Garth couldn't tell what his expression meant. "What if you fell in love with me, Garth?"

"Wha—well, that would be—"

"If you fell in love with me, I mean if you actually loved me, you wouldn't be able to say no when I ask to leave."

He must have thought that would stop Garth in his tracks. Heck, Garth almost figured the same thing. But then he realized something. "I wouldn't. More than ever, I wouldn't let you go." He'd leave it at that, as he didn't want to argue with Oliver. But he knew his answer was the truth.

If he ever  _loved_ Oliver, there was no way in hell Garth would let him go to the government mines. Oliver was soft, pampered, and sweet. The mines would either destroy him, or change him beyond repair, and there was just no good reason for that.

Bracing for an argument, Garth told himself to be happy with the short amount of time he got to hold Oliver. But the other man didn't budge. He didn't even tense or anything—actually, he snuggled closer. Garth was frozen, scared that any movement on his part would make Oliver shy away.

All he did, was let out a long sigh. "We'll just have to agree to disagree on that."

"You think I'd let you go?"

"If you loved me, you wouldn't be able to keep me here against my will."

He sounded so fucking sure of that.  _I should just throw him to the mines for a week._

The thought startled Garth. It was dark and mean, and even worse—he had felt a thrill of satisfaction at the idea of a crying, broken Oliver begging to come back home. He'd be a good boy then, grateful and loving. He'd cling to Garth and panic whenever Garth had to go out…

_No._ That's not what Garth wanted at all.

He quietly sniffed Oliver's hair, pressing his face against the other man. Thinking practically, that plan wouldn't be safe anyway.

He couldn't be sure Oliver wouldn't get himself killed in the first few days.

**oOo**

Garth felt physically ill walking away from Oliver and Andrew. He should have just said no, he should have just chained Ollie up or kept him nearby all day. This was stupid, it was so stupid.

But the look on Ollie's face when he saw Andrew waiting by the shore of the lake with an ice chest full of drinks and food… Garth couldn't be the one to take that away. So he reluctantly handed him over with a stern warning to the two brides that he'd take a switch to both their asses if they tried anything like running.

Andrew had smirked at him in a way that would have had Garth swinging a punch, but Jamal was there and Ollie was there, so he didn't.  _Smug bastard._ Instead, he nodded his head at the two of them and marched away without another word.

"Garth, hold up." He paused at the door of his hoverport, and turned to see Jamal hustling up to him. "Let's talk for a minute."

"Sure," Garth replied, lowering himself back down into the mud.

Jamal clutched his hips, his jaw set tight as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "How was the first night? You fuck him?"

"I spanked him."

Jamal smiled wryly at that. "Huh. Didn't expect you to be the first to discipline."

Shaking his head, Garth felt like the whole thing was gonna pour out of him. He realized he hadn't spoken to anyone with a bride for a couple of days and suddenly felt relieved to share. "He ain't as grateful as he should be. He keeps giving me lip…"

"Does he know he should be grateful?"

"If he knew—"  _If he knew, any affection from him would feel tainted by obligation._

Jamal could see the thought in his eyes. "You're a sap. I knew you were. I bet you barely even caused a sting."

Garth snorted at that. He thought the conversation was over, but Jamal was still standing there looking tense. "What's going on?" Garth asked.

"Raiders. They hit two more guys up north. I'm worried they're gonna circle back around before winter really hits."

Garth pictured being overrun with bandits, having Oliver taken away from him. Like hell he'd ever let that happen. "Let them, I'll shoot their cocks off."

Jamal smiled a half smile. "Glad we're on the same page."

That's right. Garth had allies. He had all the miners who wanted to keep ahold of their brides, who were scared their brides would be taken away from them. "We won't let it happen," he growled.

Jamal nodded. "Go on, then."

Climbing into the hoverport, Garth felt more confident. He had a network. He had friends. They had all gained the same miracle together—and would be damned together if they lost it.

* * *

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	9. Chapter 9

_We live as we dream-alone._

**oOo**

_I can't do it._

Garth kept checking the side mirror well after Oliver and Andrew had disappeared from view. His knuckles were white on the wheel. Several times, he jerked to the left—fully intending to turn all the way around and collect his bride, but managed to stop himself.

He felt sick. Not because he couldn't deal with Oliver being gone, but with the rising panic that Oliver would be gone  _forever,_ that Garth would return and the lake shore would be barren.

To calm himself, he tried to picture Oliver. But nothing detailed came to mind, just general easy features like shaggy brown hair and bony limbs.

Bile rose in his throat. Garth hit the breaks. The hoverport listed suddenly towards the edge of the road, and before it came to a stop, he kicked the door open and fell out. He crawled to the nearest tree and violently lost his breakfast.

He was out for a minute—well and truly gone. And then everything came into extreme clarity; the cold sweat accumulating along his brow, the sounds of the forest, the chilled air biting at his skin. The complete and utter solitude.

Wiping his forehead with his sleeve, he straightened.  _I have to go back._

_No._

He couldn't afford to miss another day at the mines. Not if he wanted to support Oliver, not if he wanted to keep everything he built.

**oOo**

Oliver was in awe of several things at that moment: The first was the lake. It was stunning. He'd never seen anything like it; crystal blue, glass still, and wide as an Ohran city district. Secondly, he wasn't expecting the spread of beer, sandwiches, and sugar candies waiting for him and Andrew. Very indulgent.

But last of all—he was truly mesmerized by how nonchalant Andrew seemed in the face of all this splendor. He was sitting back in one of two plastic lounge chairs, his feet resting up on a cooler. When he saw Oliver, he raised his beer bottle with a little smile. "So am I babysitting you, or are you babysitting me?"

Oliver sat. "...I don't know."

"That was a joke my friend, just a joke." Andrew took a sip of beer, his gaze stretching long across the water. "They left us together alone because they know we ain't stupid enough to run."

"Did you think about it?"

"Sure." Andrew nodded towards the cooler at his feet. "Guess maybe… two week's worth? If we really stretched it out."

Oliver wanted to see what was in there. He hadn't realized there'd be more than what was already laid out. But mostly he felt a certain warmth knowing Andrew had factored him into the survival plan. Oliver had never been quite sure how strong their friendship was, if he was just a means to an end during the port ride from Ohran.

With that thought, he appraised Andrew's hair. "Seems like Jamal got the hang of it."

That earned him a chuckle. "Damn right he did."

"But he tied you up?"

Whatever cool confidence Andrew was projecting faltered for a moment. He glanced so sharply at Oliver, that Oliver flinched back. "How'd you know about that?"

"Oh, uh. I heard… Garth and Jamal talking about it on the comm."

Andrew considered him silently for a drawn-out moment, rubbing his knuckles. And then he sighed. "Let me tell you, Oliver, these guys—they're messed up. They're not right in the head. I thought it'd be easy, I understood that he's been alone for months at a time, and all I had to do was cuddle up, you know? But that cutie who ran off really did a number on him."

"Did he hurt you?"

"No. Hell no. I would have torn his throat out."

Oliver could see Jamal and Andrew being an even match. Not like him and Garth, who was built like a bull. "You could knock him out, take his port. You come pick me up—"

"Whoa, whoa," Andrew said, his lip curling with amusement. "Oliver, you're not actually thinking of running, right? There's nowhere to go. First off, we're chipped, so by the time we roll into Shagalice, they'll be waiting for us. And if you're suggesting we haul our city boy asses into the forest with a stolen port, than I'm worried about your self-preservation instincts, man."

Embarrassed at the complete dressing-down, Oliver ducked his head. "But I'm not giving up. I didn't come here to be a bride, I came here to mine, and eventually buy my own land. I came here to  _be_ Garth, not to suck Garth's dick."

"Yeah, yeah." Andrew took another sip, his chilled attitude back.

Oliver narrowed his eyes. "You don't believe me anymore, do you?"

"Never said that. I have no fucking clue what the truth is."

"Garth believes it."

He let that sink in.

Finally Andrew glanced at him, feigning disinterest. "Man, he's probably just trying to make you feel better."

"No. No, he called me a class-B worker like it was an insult. Like he hated me for it."

Andrew thoughtfully circled the rim of his beer bottle with his thumb. "You know, I heard Jamal talking about class-Bs. He sounded like he hated them too."

Nodding, Oliver held his arms out. "See? There was so much  _emotion_ put into it. Garth wouldn't have felt that way unless he really thought I was one."

"So he knows…"

"Yes."

Andrew's expression turned troubled. "Tread lightly here. Don't confront him about it or anything. He might freak out thinking you wanna take off or contact the authorities."

"Right," Oliver agreed. "Right, I could see that."

"He violent?"

"A couple slaps to the ass… I'll live."

Thankfully Andrew didn't ask him to explain. "There's gotta be a reason he believes you're a class-B worker, like actually  _knows_ it. Denial would be so much easier than believing, so there's something concrete out there that proves it to him. Man, he'd gotta know something you don't."

Oliver suddenly felt very heavy. What Andrew was saying… made so much sense. Proof. Garth had proof. He huddled closer to Andrew despite them being the only two souls for miles. "What if I got back to Shagalice? If I got a face-to-face with the prisoner disbursement people, they'd have to listen to me, right?"

Andrew looked doubtful. "Ain't nothing in it for them."

"What? It's… I'm falsely imprisoned! It's an injustice done on their watch."

Shaking his head, Andrew exhaled with amusement as he sat back in his chair, muttering something about Oliver being too naive to live.

Maybe so. But Oliver had felt hope again. Everything was set to rights—clearly there was proof somewhere of his status. He just had to get back to the disbursement office where there were computers and records. "I'll fix this," he said earnestly.

Andrew just took another sip of his beer and sighed.

**oOo**

Jamal showed up before Garth, and things were awkward.

Not between him and Andrew—Oliver was interested to see how Andrew's whole attitude shifted when the freeman hopped out of the hoverport and idled over to them. He became languid and welcoming, scooting over so Jamal had a place to sit, and then slumping against him with a murmured, "hey baby."

Oliver watched Jamal through this. Surely he had to know that Andrew was acting? Or maybe he didn't care.

Well, not maybe. Definitely. He had an expression of such reserved, borderline nirvana on his face that Oliver felt like he was intruding on something intimate. Jamal slid one work-rough palm up the dark brown skin of Andrew's sculpted bicep before circling arm around his shoulder and burying his face against the crook of Andrew's throat.

While Jamal's face was hidden, Andrew's expression slackened to something… not malicious, but not affectionate.

That's when Oliver noticed the tattoo under Jamal's ear. It was a hawk with a Q for an eye—same as the one he'd seen on the bottom of Andrew's foot one time. "You guys are from the same district," he blurted without thinking.

The look Andrew shot him was first vicious, and then immediately exasperated.

Jamal sat back quickly, confusion etched on his face. "What—" His focus shifted to Andrew. "Quiyo Three?"

_I'm an idiot._ Oliver should have known that Andrew, who never gave away something unless he had to, probably wouldn't want Jamal to know they were from the same district on Ohran. That  _meant_ things; meant families had probably intermingled, that they could have been neighbors at some point, or ate at the same food reserve.

"I'm sorry, no," Oliver said, stumbling through his words. "My mistake, I—"

"It's alright," Andrew cut over him. "Yes, Quiyo Three, all my life."

Jamal looked like he'd been blessed by God. A good amount of whatever had made him so stiff before completely melted away. "You're perfect, you're so perfect," he said, his voice actually cracking with emotion. "You're my home…"

He seemed to catch his own incoherence, and stopped. Jumping up, he grabbed some of the stuff laying around while mumbling about packing up and fled to the port.

"I'm so sorry," Oliver immediately said when he was out of earshot.

"It's really fine," Andrew replied. He sounded tired.

"This might work out ok? You guys will have something to talk about, maybe you know some of the same people?"

"Oliver…" The exasperation was back. "Why do you think I'm here as a bride? Do you think I have good memories of Quiyo? Or that the people there have good memories of me?"

"I don't know, I mean the same could be said about Jamal."

Andrew scoffed. "With my luck, I probably killed his damn brother."

They fell into complete silence. Oliver had known that Andrew killed someone. But from the sound of it...there might have been a body count. He had a hard time reconciling that with the man who kept other violent creeps from approaching Oliver on the port ride.

Jamal was back, and seemed to have composed himself. Behind him, Garth was approaching in the hoverport.

Oliver's thoughts about Andrew and Quiyo ground to a halt. He watched as Garth parked the hoverport, killed the engine, and hopped out.

And then, to Oliver's surprise, Garth strode to him directly. Each step matched Oliver's rapidly increasing heartbeat and he nearly yelped when Garth grabbed him by the arm, dragged him up, and kissed him.

Oliver had no time to adjust. Suddenly there was this hulk of a man latched to him like an octopus. No hesitance, no awkwardness, nothing that Oliver would have expected. Adoring kisses dotted his jawline as fingers dug against the small of his back. Finally, he thought that Garth was coming up for air—but no, he started biting Oliver's throat.

"Ow," Oliver said more in surprise than pain. But Garth suddenly jerked arm's length away from him, his face pale.

He didn't say anything, just touched all along Oliver's neck and shoulders, probably checking for injury. Then he relaxed. "Sorry."

The utterance was gruff.

Still a little shellshocked, Oliver nodded. He glanced at Jamal and Andrew, who were both staring at them. "I guess this is goodbye? Can we do it again tomorrow?"

He could feel the reluctance radiating off both freemen. Jamal even clutched Andrew's wrist, the movement looking entirely involuntary. "I don't want to be a monster," he said slowly. "But I can't allow you two spending too much time together. Not until you've settled."

He clearly did not include Andrew in that  _you've._ He meant Oliver only. "Why?" Oliver laughed. "Am I a bad influence?"

"Let's go," Garth said before Jamal could answer. He pulled Oliver away, not breaking stride until they were at the hoverport. He opened the passenger side door, and waited expectantly for Oliver to hop inside, and when Oliver started to protest not being able to say goodbye to Andrew, Garth simply hoisted him up and tossed him in.

The hoverport was completely silent for the first hour of driving. Finally at wit's end, Oliver decided they had to find some common ground to talk about. Or, barring that, something they have a common interest in. "I want to know what's happened with all the brides."

"Why?" Garth said after a moment.

"I know most of them, I'm just worried."

"You don't need to worry about them, they were given to good men."

"Why are you trying to isolate me?"

He watched as Garth's eyebrows furrowed. "Isolate you?"

"Yeah." Oliver put his feet up on the dashboard, and crossed his arms over his chest. "You don't want me connected to anyone. I  _have_ to be reliant on you."

"That's not—"

"You're trying to brainwash me."

That may have been too far. Garth didn't hit the brakes or anything, but he did pull the hoverport to the side of the road, and rest his arm on the wheel as he stared off into the distance. I wasn't trying… I mean, I was just sayin', you don't have to worry about them. They ain't being hurt, you can trust me on that. And brainwash you—I don't know what that means."

That last admission was said so low that Oliver barely heard it.

Garth continued: "But there ain't nothing wrong with wanting you reliant on me, Ollie. That's the whole point. We're barely talking to each other, we're not… we're not sleeping in the same bed. You need to be my bride before you go off seeing friends and stuff."

_You don't even like me,_  Oliver thought suddenly.  _You hate class-B miners._

Garth was worrying his hat between his rough hands. He glanced at Oliver, as if dreading whatever Oliver was gonna snap at him next.

Oliver took a breath. He had to remember that there was a plan now.

He  _had_ to convince Garth to take him to Shagalice.

**oOo**

Maybe Garth had come on a little too strong back there at the lake, and that's why Oliver was acting all prickly. But after a hard day of labor, mind racing with all the ways Oliver might be gone when Garth got back, he couldn't stand not touching his bride.

"You know," Oliver said to him from the other side of the cab. "Normal relationships don't go straight to the marriage bed either."

Garth had no idea how normal relationships went. His first love had been a prostitute and everything else was bought and paid for. But he really hated looking stupid all the time in front of Oliver. He was a successful freeman. Hell, who was the bride and who was the one in charge? Garth was the one in charge. He decided what was normal.

"You earn privileges," he said. "Seeing friends is a privilege that even I don't get most of the time."

Oliver's mouth had set into a small pout. "So how do I  _earn_ privileges?" he asked peevishly.

Garth wasn't going to say sex things. He knew that's what Oliver expected, and he knew that would be the easy thing to do, but he wasn't gonna do it. "I don't know right now. But I can say, you ain't done nothing to earn anything yet."

He started the engine again and pulled out onto the road feeling slightly more secure in his position of authority. "Did you have a nice day?"

For a moment, he thought he was going to get another short, annoyed answer. But then Oliver said, "I did, thank you. The lake was amazing."

Encouraged, Garth responded: "I missed you all day."

He frowned. That came out wrong, or...didn't quite cover what he meant. He wanted Oliver to know that every minute drilling for tesac rock was torture, that Garth felt like his very core was shrivelling with fear that he wouldn't ever see Oliver again. He'd started talking to himself like he did sometimes, and it had occurred to him how lonesome it was getting a response he already knew was coming.

When Oliver didn't say anything, Garth had to glance at him. He was sitting back against the port's door, his eyes hooded as he considered Garth. "You're a good man I think, Garth. Why hadn't you found anyone?"

"No one wanted me."

"I don't believe that."

Garth wanted to sneer at this rich boy. But there was no point being mean to him, he already had to do what Garth said. "Ain't that many men on Monarus, Ollie. And the ones who are here? Crooks, thieves, and liars. You should seem 'em, all trying to trick each other into love. They don't know how to do it any other way. And of course, love means one has to give up everything."

"Everything?"

"Unless you fall in love with your neighbor, you'd be liable to receive a parcel of land two days off from your sweetheart. So you either leave the land and live with your man, or you drop the guy. Now, I ain't saying it never happens—I know a few men who've worked it out. But it's not often."

Garth sighed. "Trust is hard to come by here."

It occurred to him that, by explaining the situation, maybe he'd bring Oliver a little closer to understanding and reconciling his status as bride. "I worked in the government mines since I was a boy, and the only bit of light through all that was knowing I'd get my own land at the end of it. That is, if I didn't get crushed in a cave-in, starved, murdered, raped to death, or what have you."

Satisfied by Oliver's silence, he continued: "But I've been free for some time now, built up a liveable sum, and even though you might not believe it, the other men respect me. The only thing left was taking up with a man."

He heard a little snort. "Unfortunately you ended up with a fighter."

"You're not much of a fighter," Garth replied without thinking. He couldn't help but chuckle indulgently too. Man, was he gonna be in the dog house now. "I can tell you're pampered, and you ain't got much work-muscle. I mean, better for me—can't imagine what it's like for Jamal."

He expected anger, so when he didn't get anything, glanced over, and saw Oliver grinning wryly at him, he didn't know what to do.

"You know, Garth," Oliver said, "I was just thinking the same exact thing today."

"...Yeah?"

"Yeah. I was looking at the two of them next to each other, and it really would be a fair match."

Garth laughed, allowing himself to relax a little. "If I were Jamal, I'd be watching my back."

"Well you know, thick muscle wouldn't stop a knife."

"That's true," Garth replied thoughtfully. "Or a gun."

"You have a gun?"

"Several, in the storage box. I'm gonna show you how to use the hunting rifle soon enough."

A warm body shifted against Garth suddenly, an arm looping through his. Oliver was snuggling with him. "What kind of little beasties do they have around here?"

"A few deer type things," Garth replied. "But they brought over some of our critters ten years ago and they're breeding well."

"Invasive species!"

"What?"

"Like gold sparrows and red-head sparrows."

Now Garth was really lost, but whatever Oliver was talking about seemed to make him sad, so Garth slung an arm around his shoulder and rubbed him gently.

"I suppose it's dumb to worry about sparrows when we're blasting the hell out of this place," Oliver continued.

_Oh._ Now Garth was catching on. "You're one of those environment types, aren't you?"

"Nope, too greedy for that."

Though his response seemed like it was supposed to be uncaring, Garth got the feeling it was a little forced. But he let that go. "Well," he said awkwardly, clearing his throat. "I've seen some birds here or there, they're a bit sturdier I think. You know, with the rain."

"That's interesting."

He sounded sincere, so Garth kept going: "A lot of 'em are like ducks."

Oliver murmured. And then he suddenly shot straight up in his seat. "Oh,  _Garth._ We could write a book."

Garth was startled. "What?"

"A native wildlife book, I doubt anyone's ever thought of it."

Was Oliver making fun of him? Did he remember that Garth could barely read, let alone write? No… he seemed too happy about the idea for it to be that. "Okay," Garth said slowly, mulling over the idea. It hit him: he could make Oliver  _happy._ "Do you need supplies? Paper?"

"Paper, sketching pencils, perhaps a notebook?"

"Sure, sure." He'd have to go into Shagalice for those things. "Might be a few weeks."

"That's fine!"

Of all miracles, Oliver was cuddling as close as humanly possible. He was so warm, and so alive. His sporadic, light stubble was brushing Garth's neck. Garth turned a little to kiss the top of his head and smell his hair. "Let me sleep with my bride tonight," he rumbled. "Just sleep, I promise."

There would be nothing more satisfying than concluding this unexpected ceasefire with a night pressed skin-to-skin with Oliver.

And to Garth's complete and utter relief, Oliver replied softly, "Alright."

**oOo**

Garth bathed in the tub outside, freezing his ass off and not really caring. Under his bed sheets, all nice and toasty, Oliver would be waiting.

No mud and grime-caked skin from mining all day would turn his bride off. Garth was gonna be sparkling clean when he came up the stairs, and dressed in simple cotton long-johns so that Oliver wouldn't feel threatened.

Scrubbing harshly, Garth rushed through his ablutions, and then jumped out of the tub. He stumbled into the underwear on his way inside the house. He did the usual night check, although maybe not as thoroughly as usual, and then he was pounding up the stairs, all reason and caution gone.

He wanted to lie with his chest to Oliver's back, his cock nestled hot and safe between Oliver's asscheeks. He knew it was bad to think that when he had already been given quarter to such extent.

But when he came up through the staircase and saw Oliver stretched out like a cat on Garth's bed, belly down and tight little ass nearly visible through thin underwear, Garth let out an involuntary groan. _You're mine,_ he said sweetly in his head because he couldn't speak the words. He approached Oliver, slid one knee on the bed.  _My bride._

"Are you asleep?" he whispered.

"No."

"Can I touch you—nowhere dirty, just, can I rub your back?"

A brown eye peeked up at him from behind crossed arms. "You're the one who's been working all day. Shouldn't I be massaging you?"

Garth frowned. How to say he'd much rather explore Oliver's body? He was already well-acquainted with his own. In the end, he admitted just that.

Oliver's lip quirked. "I'm flattered."

Waiting for the go ahead, Garth made a little abortive move to touch, but then restrained himself.

"How about this, lay beside me and touch where you please. I'm cold."

Garth needed no more invitation. He dragged the quilts over the both of them and caught his breath when Oliver cuddled up against his chest. "Better yet, rub me raw all over," he laughed. "I'm  _freezing._ "

In a way, Garth's nerves were calmed by making his touch utilitarian. He gave Oliver's arms, sides, back, thighs and anywhere else believably non-sexual a brisk rub. The chilled skin beneath his palms grew warm, and Oliver exhaled with pleasure. The sound made Garth's belly clench.

"Are you sure," Oliver asked softly, "that you don't want me to touch you?"

"Huh!" A useless grunt. That's all Garth could manage.

Oliver laughed at him, but artful fingers darted out and traced along his collarbone. He felt their path like fire. Then he took Garth's hand and kneaded his palm. Years-old ache Garth hadn't realized pained him drained away.

"They did this for my father—he was a painter."

"Oh."

Oliver paused for a moment, thumb moving along Garth's lifeline. "What did you feel when you spanked me? Arousal?"

Well, now he was feeling shame. However, Oliver's nonchalant tone made it less strong. "The need to get my point across to you," Garth replied. "And… maybe some  _need._ "

"Mmm…" Oliver continued his massaging, moving on to the other hand. "I never thought I'd be struck by someone who also wanted to fuck me." His tone was oddly curious and not at all judgmental. "You plan to do it again, of course."

"I don't  _plan_ to. But I will, if I think you need it."

"Okay, alright." Oliver's voice had gone soft. "How about this, though. See it as a last resort, and beforehand you have to put in a good-faith effort of listening to me, of us having a rational conversation."

"We won't always have time for a conversation. In some moments, you'll just have to be taught the lesson of shutting up when I tell you."

He felt Oliver shiver. Had Garth been to gruff?

But then he heard a low rumble—it was Oliver, who was squirming slightly. The movement was small, but he was wiggling his hips.

Garth watched in amazement as Oliver palmed himself. "Mmm, Garth, I think you've struck a chord."

And then, like poetry, Oliver suddenly rolled to his other side, slipped his pants down, and started rubbing his ass back against Garth's crotch. He was whimpering quietly to himself.

"You trying to rub off on me?" Garth asked, stupefied.

All he got in reply was a little half-grunt. He clasped Oliver's waist and jerked him back more, pulled his own long-johns down while having the foresight to say, "I'm not putting it in, just wanna rub too."

Oliver nodded. It sounded like he was biting his lip through the moans. "Um, s—slap my thigh like you did that time."

_Whoa, whoa, whoa._ Garth's heart was thundering. Not once had he thought of actually bringing hurt into the bed.

"Garth…" Oliver said to him, voice shaking with tight, unresolved need.

He clapped the boy's thigh; a nice, stinging little smack.

Oliver convulsed, a gap appearing between his legs as he pushed back more. "Slide your cock through," he demanded.

Garth did, spitting into his palm, slicking himself, and then driving his cock between the heat of Oliver's thighs. They rocked together like animals, gasping and sweating, Garth biting Oliver's shoulder and slapping his thigh. When he came, he gripped his arm over Oliver's chest and squeezed him so tight, he heard a plea for air before he felt Oliver come too.

They panted in unison, Garth falling back and pulling Oliver with him like a doll. No, not like a doll. Garth had to grin. That time around, it kinda felt like he was the fucktoy and Oliver was the one using. Not a bad feeling at all, Garth admitted only to himself.

There was a light on the horizon in his heart. For a while, Garth had started to lose sight of what he wanted out here in the raining forest, but now there were so many things to be done! Mining to support his fledgling family, and teaching Oliver to shoot and hunt, giving him responsibilities so that they could be partners in survival.

But first, going to Shagalice so that Oliver could have the paper and pencils to sketch his pretty, native birds.


	10. Chapter 10

**oOo**

Oliver had always been a bony kid. So, he was surprised that Garth saw him as a source of comfort—or, at least that's what Oliver assumed was happening.

He had woken up to scratchy nuzzling against his belly. Eyes popping open, the first thing he saw was a brown head of hair. Garth was kneeling over him and pawing at him like some sort of starved animal, like somehow he'd be nourished by the taste of Oliver's skin. However, when he started to teeth at Oliver's nipple, it was time to call things to order.

"Garth."

The hulk of a man hovering over him froze.

"Just how long has it been since you've been with someone?"

Oliver watched as the strained, tense line of Garth's shoulders loosened, and then all at once he flopped over—leaving his arm draped across Oliver's chest. He let out one, long exhale before saying, "Months and months. And that was just a rub and tug I paid for at the card hall."

Rolling to his side, Oliver hugged Garth's arm close to his chest. He grinned at the red flush that bloomed all the way down Garth's chest. "You never asked a pro to live with you?"

"I did."

Oliver frowned. He honestly hadn't been expecting that. "And?"

"He said no."

There was weary circumspection in Garth's voice, not heartbreak. "Probably for the best, not sure even liked me. Plus I was drunk when I asked."

Oliver almost asked if Garth had really been that desperate, but the question felt cruel on his tongue so he swallowed it back. "Has that worked out for anyone, though? Asking a man from Shagalice to go live with them?"

"Sure. Here or there."

"They're afraid something like what happened with Jamal would happen to them."

Garth was silent for a moment and staring up at the ceiling. He seemed to have forgotten, momentarily, that Oliver was clutching his arm and rubbing along the line of his bicep. "What happened with Jamal… has happened before. He knew the risk, and he knew Timmy was a real scoundrel. He thought he could get the boy out into the woods and keep him there, keep him out of trouble. He might not have been in his right mind, really."

"What do you mean?"

Once again, Garth took a moment to respond. Oliver could practically see him trying to work through what he wanted to say. Finally, he cleared his throat. "There's a certain point out here when you wanna give up, or you—" His voice faltered, his eyes narrowed. "—you start thinking, why do I have to follow the rules? No one else follows the rules."

"Ok…"

"Well, I ain't saying he didn't trust Timmy, and I ain't saying Timmy was a victim. But Jamal probably thought the damn brides were never coming, so he'd make a few promises to Timmy, oversell some things, and then deal with the consequences later. He probably thought he should do anything to convince Timmy to come. And once he had him in the port, well, there just wouldn't be any way for Timmy to get back."

"Man…" Jamal was really starting to lose some points in Oliver's eyes. "That's sick."

Garth frowned. And then slowly, he pulled away from Oliver and crossed his arms over his chest. "You don't get it."

He said it like he hadn't expected anything different, like he should have realized Oliver wasn't going to sanction tricking someone into living isolated in the woods. "Yeah, I don't get it. You said yourself, Jamal lied to Timmy. What am I supposed to get about that?"

"Nothing yet." Garth scrubbed a palm down his face. "But later, you will."

**oOo**

"This is how you turn the comm on, everyone's already logged there so all you need to do is dial up my port, or Andrew's."

"Right." Oliver watched Garth scroll through his many contacts on the comm screen, but didn't see anything related to the Shagalice authorities. Oh well, it's not like Oliver could do much with that even if he did get in contact. No, he needed a face-to-face meeting. "So can I just call up Andrew any time and chat?"

Garth clicked the comm off. "No. You ain't earned that privilege."

Oliver's lip curled. He'd forgotten about the whole privilege thing. He hadn't been that surprised when Garth never mentioned trading sex, but now Oliver was kind of wishing he had. That would make things so much easier than the nebulous situation he was stuck in now. "Are you going to explain how I earn the right to use the comm?"

Having moved over to the kitchen table, where he was packing up a sandwich and a thermos of coffee, Garth paused and seemed to consider the question. "Well," he said finally, "How about this: you earn ten minutes on the comm by coming up with a good list of privilege-earning things yourself."

Oliver snorted. "Well, look who knows how to delegate."

"Just think you should start using your brain and figuring out how things get done around here," Garth replied, not sounding the least bit offended by Oliver's jibe. "Once you get settled, I expect you to take up some of the responsibilities. I can't handle mining, hunting, and cabin upkeep for two people on my own."

Well now Oliver just felt like he was being lectured by a parent. So of course a teenage-level of sullenness burned in his chest. "Bringing a second person out here was your choice."

"Yes, that's true." Garth zipped his jacket up. He was decked out in full bad-weather gear, including odd-looking rubber overalls that Oliver figured were meant for slogging around in deep mud. "But what I'm telling you to do is nothing compared to the kinda work they'd be having you do down at the government mines."

He slung his pack over his shoulder, looked at Oliver, and then cupped Oliver's cheek. Without warning, he leaned over and left a smack of a kiss on Oliver's lips. Pulling away, he said, "Be a good boy."

And then, after a moment of hesitation, he added: "If I'm not back by an hour after nightfall, call Jamal and have him come pick you up. He'll come if you tell him I ain't shown up."

Oliver didn't have to ask why Garth wouldn't come back. There were a million ways he could die out there alone. "What about those raiders?"

"If you hear anything, go hide just beyond the border of the woods. But don't lose sight of the cabin. You'll get lost out there if you go too far."

"Garth…why can't I just come with you?"

Garth was already shaking his head before Oliver finished his question. "You're not gonna learn how to mine, not a single thing about it. I'm putting my foot down about that."

"So I can't earn for myself?"

"Yes." Garth walked to the door, pulled it open, and seemed to brace himself for the cold and rain. He stopped at the threshold, glanced over his shoulder, and stared at Oliver with unblinking eyes.

Oliver could see the fear in those brown depths.

But then Garth sniffed, turned back around, and strode into the dark.

**oOo**

Oliver had always planned by taking notes and organizing his thoughts on paper. This proved difficult when there didn't seem to be any paper in the cabin.

He amused himself by looking. Downstairs was spartan: just the living area with the couch and fireplace, and the kitchen. So he went upstairs and roamed around, looked under the bed, and idly went through Garth's wardrobe. There was nothing but mining clothes except for the suit he wore a few days ago in Shagalice. Now that Oliver looked at it, he realized that the style was rather outdated, and not by just a few seasons.

Garth had worn it to impress whatever man was assigned to him, or perhaps to reassure the man that Garth was a gentleman. Oliver stroked his fingers down the arm, and marveled at how well-kept it was.

From the wardrobe, he moved on to the chest at the end of the bed. The wood has the same perpetually soaked, puffed look that Monarus trees seemed to have, so Oliver guessed that Garth had built the chest himself at some point.

Inside, the first layer were some quilts. But beneath those…jackpot. There was a stack of loose-sheaf paper and some pencils tied together with a band. But before Oliver pulled them out, another stack caught his eye. It was an assortment of pamphlets and newspapers, all printed on Monarus, and most of them directed at freemen and miners. One particular heading caught his eye:  _We're Getting Brides_.

He sat down on the bed, and scanned the contents of the pamphlet. In simple language, it read,

_The Eovican party has voted in favor of sending "brides" to Monarus. What does this mean? Freemen on Monarus may get a bride. What is a bride? A bride is a man given to a freeman. Why? For comfort. The bride will be yours. The bride cannot leave you, and must depend on you, so you must take care of the bride._

_This is what we've been waiting for. Brides cannot own land, brides cannot earn money, brides cannot spend money without permission._

Oliver stopped reading, and let the paper fall to his knee as he looked up at the mirror across from him.

The pamphlet had been written two years beforehand. For two years, the miners on Monarus had been waiting for these almost mythical brides to appear. When Andrew had explained the concept to Oliver on the transport ship, he'd found the whole thing ridiculous. Who would want a virtual stranger suddenly ensconced in their home like a hopeless baby? A human being they'd suddenly be responsible for to feed and take care of? It had made no sense.

Outside, the rain was pounding against the window.

Oliver sat there until the shrill ringing in his ears became too much to bear, and then he stood up. In his ransacking of the house, he hadn't found any form of music player—no radio, no speakers, nothing. He tried to imagine Garth in this cabin alone for years, in total silence.

On Ohran, there was no silence. You couldn't spit without hitting someone on the cheek. There were people everywhere.

"Well," Oliver said to himself. His voice sounded weird.

He grabbed the blank paper and pencils, and loped downstairs. At the kitchen table, he scribbled a list of chores he figured needed to be done. Simple things like washing clothes, cooking food, sweeping. Garth had mentioned cabin upkeep, and Oliver knew a thing or two about plumbing, so he added that.

In the end, he really needed to get on Garth's good side. Since the night before, there hadn't been a single mention about a trip to Shagalice. Oliver decided that harping on the subject too much would make Garth suspicious, so instead he'd wait until Garth broached the topic himself.

**oOo**

On the drive back, the hauler moaned in protest under its load of tesac rock. Garth gripped the wheel, careful to keep a cautious pace. He kept hitting the acceleration a little too hard, would ease off, but then after a few moments passed, would do it again.

Seven hours had passed since he'd said goodbye to Ollie in the kitchen. All manner of bad things could have happened in the meantime. Garth didn't know what the worst would be. Kidnapped? Ran? Got hurt? For some reason, despite knowing Garth himself had survived alone in the woods just fine for years, he couldn't fathom how Oliver would manage.

"Man, oh man," he mumbled to himself, wiping at his forehead.

He rounded the bend leading up to his cabin and squinted through the dark. When he saw lights in the distance, he felt a little better.

He parked the hauler under the enclosure he built to keep rain from sluicing over the rock all night. Covered in dirt and grime, he frowned down at himself, but he was too chilled and weary to go straight to the tub.  _Oh well._

His boots squelched through the mud as he walked, threatening to pop right off his feet. He soldiered on, gazing up at the bright and cheery windows of the cabin he'd constructed entirely by himself. His chest warmed at the idea of Ollie nestled and safe inside because Garth had provided like a good man.

It was Ham Venn who'd introduced the idea of taking care of someone to Garth more than a decade ago. Starved, frozen, and broken, Garth had been sitting alone in the dark hospital ward when Venn came in, sat beside him on his cot, and rested a hand on his shoulder. "You have to work hard and not run away, Garth," he'd said. And then he described freedom, having enough to eat, having money—but not only that, having enough to feed another hungry mouth, to build a family.

As he thought about how Ollie was his  _family,_ Garth clutched the railing of the stairs leading up to the porch and slowly made his way up. The wood creaked under his boots. Before he reached the last step, the front door swung open.

Shrouded in firelight, Ollie looked especially welcoming. He was wearing the knit sweater and slacks Garth had purchased for him in Shagalice, and his longish hair was tousled like he'd been taking a nap. "Garth," he said, teeth showing as he smiled.

Frozen, Garth tried to figure out what he recognized in that tone. But then he did: relief.

"Man, look at you," Oliver said, bouncing out of the house to grip Garth's arms. "Do you want to clean up?"

"M' kind of cold for that," Garth mumbled in reply, glancing at the tub sitting on the porch.

Oliver followed his line of sight and hummed in agreement. He was still holding Garth's arms. "Well, come inside anyway, but leave the boots out here."

"Okay." Garth shucked his boots off, his hand resting on Oliver's shoulder for support. As an extra precaution, he unclipped the hooks on his overalls and struggled out of them.

He heard Oliver snort. "Let me help you." And just like that, his hand slipped below Garth's waistline to keep his pants from getting tugged down with the rubber.

They were standing very close together, foreheads nearly touching. Hesitantly, Garth looked up a little and then pressed his lips against the corner of Oliver's eye, letting his hand come around to cup at the small of Oliver's back.

"You were gone forever," Oliver said, still working at Garth's overalls.

"I'm sorry."

"Does mining really take that long?"

"If the day's gonna be worth it." Garth stepped out of the rubber pooled around his feet, and herded Ollie back into the house before he could get too cold, and shut the door behind them. "Tesac's worth quite a bit, but I have to do the work to see that money."

"Yeah, I understand." Oliver was now running the tips of his fingers through Garth's hair, working out the knots. He hadn't put a single inch of space between them, and Garth had yet to be able to get past the entryway.

"You're sticking to me," Garth said. It was almost a question.

It was also stupid.

Oliver immediately drew back a step, awareness flashing in his eyes. "Sorry…"

Garth was paralyzed with how stupid that had been, and his tongue was a dead slab in his mouth. All he could do was gawk at Oliver's retreating form. But then Oliver stumbled a little, and Garth's brained revved back into gear.

He caught him by the waist, and drew him in until there wasn't any air left between them. Pressed up like that, Garth could feel Oliver's heartbeat pounding away. "Are you scared?" Garth asked.

"No…" Oliver relaxed a little in his arms. And then he did more than that, he hugged Garth back and exhaled with contentment. "I've been bored all day," he muttered. "There's no one here, there's nothing to do. I finished writing the list of chores an hour after you left and then slept all day."

Garth grunted his disapproval.

Then, without thinking, he landed a harmless little swat on Oliver's butt.

His bride gasped.

"No sleeping during the day," Garth said before Oliver could get a complaint in. "You'll be up all night while I'm trying to sleep, and that will just really fuck our schedule up." He leaned away a little, and cupped the back of Oliver's head to make sure they were making eye-contact. "Understand?"

Oliver's lips were thin, his face contorted in anger. He obviously want to spew a whole laundry list of cuss words at Garth. But then he bit his bottom lip and nodded.

Garth let go of him because he could tell the last thing Oliver wanted after losing face like that was Garth clutching at him. "I'm gonna clean up and then we can play some board games, all right?"

"I'm not a kid."

"What?"

Oliver pinned him with a steady gaze. "I'm not a kid. You don't have to humor me after you've chastised me so I'll be in a better mood. I understand the logic of us keeping the same sleep schedule."

His voice had taken a certain snippy tone that was confusing Garth.  _Standoffish_ , that's what it was. "You ain't get to sneak off and ignore me all night cause you're pissy," Garth told him.

Oliver scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he avoided Garth's eyes. "That's not what I'm doing."

"I'll smack your butt till its cherry red if you try to play any games with me."

"I get to be annoyed!" Oliver's eyes widened and he clamped his mouth shut as his cheeks went red. Obviously he hadn't meant for that outburst to happen.

"You're annoyed because I bruised your damn pride," Garth replied calmly. "But the sooner you accept that I just know more about living here than you do, that you have to listen to what I tell you, the sooner you won't feel that annoyance anymore. It'll make sense, listening to me. And you ain't gonna be any lesser for it."

He watched Oliver's testy body language loosen. "That's easy for you to say Garth…"

"Sure, because I've already lived it."

Oliver looked at him curiously.

Garth held his arms out. "I was born on Ohran same as you. I came here as innocent as a babe, same as you. But I had to learn. I had to shut up and learn."

"So you're saying eventually I'll have  _learned_ enough that you won't order me around?"

"Yeah, eventually. We'll be partners."

Garth yearned for the time he and Oliver could have discussions over when the right season to hunt was, or what needed fixing, or which merchant Garth should sell the tesac rock to. Just imagining the weight of surviving alone—of handling every single responsibility alone—being lifted from his shoulders was almost enough to bring tears to his eyes.

"Partners…" Oliver seemed to consider the word.

Garth let him think on that, heading over to the sink as he unbuttoned his work shirt.

He and Oliver seemed to be able to overcome their little spats faster with each day, which was good. Ideally, Oliver would learn not to fight over every little thing, but that seemed to be part of who he was—questioning the direction at every turn. But if he wanted to carry on with that, he'd just have to deal with a few smacks here or there. Garth didn't have time for debate during a hunt, or raiders near their land, or other situations that required fast action.

Hanging the shirt on the kitchen chair, Garth then switched the hot water on and started scrubbing at his chest with a rag. He ran the cloth over his work-earned muscles, and wondered if Oliver found them appealing. He glanced over his shoulder.

Oliver was watching him, eyes dark. He blinked, his blush returning.

"You can touch me any time you want," Garth rumbled. "I'm yours just as much as you're mine."

He could tell Oliver needed a little more coaxing. Garth returned to scrubbing himself and said idly, "Oh, and I filled the hauler today. That probably means a trip to Shagalice in a day or two, once I get hold of a buyer."

"Really?" Oliver's voice was breathless, and also right next to Garth. "Will you take me with you?"

On one hand, Garth didn't like this quid pro quo thing they seemed to be developing—Oliver only being friendly when he wanted something. But on the other hand, Garth hadn't missed the way Oliver had clung to him after being alone all day. That had nothing to do with wanting something from Garth.

So maybe it was fine spoiling him. And so what if Oliver got more cuddly in return? "Yeah, of course," Garth replied, his voice low. He turned to Oliver and held his arms out, waiting.

Obediently, Oliver slipped into his hold.

Gentle thoughts were replaced with a deep, thoughtless feeling. Garth's body, strong as it was, coiled as it was around Oliver's slighter form, felt constrained. His fingers ached to penetrate under clothing, to work Oliver into a more docile position so that he and Garth could meld together in heat and sweat and need. A baser instinct called for action, demanded that Garth stake a claim.

But Garth knew he was a patient man. This sudden  _need_ to fuck Oliver harshly, to drive into him and make him grunt and moan, was palpably overwhelming. There had to be a reason why he felt so agitated, why he couldn't just feel content that Oliver was slowly warming up to him.

There in Garth's arms, Oliver's expression was unreachable.

And because of that, Garth started to feel a creeping fear.


End file.
